Redemption
by Adamantwrites
Summary: A WHN for the episode "The Search." Whether Ann's child is his or not, Adam takes on the responsibility for him. How will this infant change his world as he knows it and his relationships? Mild adult language and situations.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The dark-haired, swarthy man, Adam Cartwright, was 38 years old and so far, his life hadn't turned out the way he had once imagined—but then nothing, he acknowledged to himself, ever did. Adam Cartwright decided that imagination served no purpose in struggling through life, especially when dealing with harsh realities. He stood at the open bedroom window of the small, neat house outside of Placerville and gazed at the eastern horizon watching the sun begin to rise. The cool breeze surrounded his bare torso and moved the light curtains. _Light as a lover's caress._

The sleeping woman in the bed behind him snored harshly and he smiled to himself. He never slept well when he visited Placerville and part of it was Cassie's snoring but then she was a big woman with broad hips, a thick waist and now-pendulous breasts. "A big ol' raw-boned woman," his brother Hoss would say in describing her. She would be more to Hoss' taste Adam conceded but he did like her and she was nursing his child along with hers, a girl named Mamie, a year older than Ezra, who had been fathered by a "no-count cowboy," as she put it but the man still came to see her whenever he could.

But that didn't bother Adam. After all, he considered, neither one of them were foolish enough to mistake their rare couplings as love-making. The fact that Cassie invited him to share her bed when he visited and to receive the benefit of her talents hearkened back to her previous profession as a barmaid who couldn't make a decent living unless she also spread her legs for some of the patrons. But now he paid her to be wet nurse to his son, Ezra.

Adam also maintained the house for her, repairing loose boards on the porch, oiling the hinges on the gate and maintaining the fence around the yard; after all, he had purchased the home for her and her daughter so that she could now live quietly and no longer have to put up with being fondled by drunken men and the demands of a boss to work more tables by using her ample cleavage to convince the men to buy more drinks. Cassie had told him though, that she missed the silver coins the cowboys would drop between her breasts and that she would fish out later. Sometimes when she undressed, a half dollar would clink on the floor, one she had missed. Adam had chuckled at that. But Cassie had a tendency to fat and since she was now retired, so to speak, it allowed her to eat more and move less so each time Adam visited his son, she was bigger. But she was good-natured, albeit bland, and having been a good friend of Ann's, she was the right person to take care of the boy.

The sun was higher in the horizon but it had yet to take the chill off. The infant, Ezra, _I wouldn't have named him Ezra—it's not a child's name but then he will eventually be a man, _was an innocent pawn in the game Ann had played; she had gambled on Adam's sense of responsibility. But Adam couldn't get close to the infant. The baby was still a stranger to him, but then this was only the third time he had seen the child and the few times he held the infant, there was no recognition as he felt there should be. _A man should feel something toward his natural child._

Adam took his trousers off the chair on which he had thrown them and pulled them on. While he was buttoning up his shirt, Cassie woke and rolled over.

"You leavin' so early?"

"I need to head back home." Adam sat on the now-empty chair and pulled on his boots. Every time he came to visit, he was always eager to leave—no fault of Cassie's; he just felt uncomfortable with the situation…and with the child.

A wail from the cradle beside the bed broke the relative silence. Adam inwardly groaned. Ezra had slept fitfully all night and because he had, Cassie had and because she had, Adam found himself waking up many times and tossing while he tried to get back to sleep. But in a manner, Adam was glad for it as his dreams hadn't been pleasant. Usually he wasn't particularly bothered by his dreams—rarely remembered them, but that night, in the dream that woke him in the early morning and caused him to leave the warmth of Cassie's bed, he had dreamed about finally taking his son home. He had handed his son to his father and when his father pulled back the blanket to see the child, he gasped. Ezra had changed into a snake and tried to slither out of his father's arms, writhing and hissing. Adam jumped back, not wanting to touch the snake, its tongue flicking in and out of its mouth, its eyes, shiny, malevolent beads. "It's not mine, Pa," Adam protested. "That's not my child! That's not what I brought home!"

"But you did bring it home! You, Adam. You brought home a serpent to poison us!" Ben Cartwright dropped the bundle and the serpent slithered out of the blankets, its glossy skin multi-colored, and slid into a hole in the floorboards, its tail flicking with finality as it disappeared. And in the dream Adam's fear of the serpent reappearing terrified him; he knew the snake wasn't gone but was always below, waiting for the right moment to strike him.

Cassie rolled out of bed and put on a robe. She made small, affectionate noises to the infant and changed the child's diaper. Ezra twisted and moved his legs, fussing and making her task more difficult.

"Adam," Cassie said, "hand me a clean gown, would you, He's soaked this one. Adam opened the drawer in the dresser and pulled out what looked like one of the long gowns the child wore and handed it to Cassie. She dropped the wet one on the floor along with the wet diaper and Adam grimaced at the sudden smell of urine. The infant either smelled fresh and pure or like urine and had wet Adam's pants' legs many times as he held the baby.

A small child, a girl with golden curls, appeared at the bedroom door. She glanced at Adam and then ran to her mother, putting up her arms.

"Pick up," the child whined. She was a pretty little girl with plump cheeks and large blue eyes but Adam couldn't help but wonder if she would one day become ponderous like her mother, huffing whenever she had to exert herself.

"Now, Mamie, I have to get Ezra." Cassie went to the cradle and Mamie began to fuss even louder. "Up! Up! Want up! No Ezra! Mamie up!"

"I'll get Ezra," Adam said, "and bring him down." Cassie nodded and picked up her daughter and carried her downstairs and into the kitchen where she put Cassie down on the wooden table to watch as she prepared a pot of coffee.

Adam held the child. At nine months old, Ezra was a sturdy, strong child with a headful of dark, wavy hair that gently curled and his eyes were turning hazel with sooty, thick lashes. In the parlor, Adam sat in one of the easy chairs and held Ezra, attempting to calm the boy by bouncing him slightly but the child continued to wail and squirm, pushing out with his legs and arching his back to get free of Adam's hands until finally Cassie, placing a mug of steaming coffee on the table by Adam's chair, took Ezra.

"He don't know you well," Cassie said as way of apology, "and he's at that age where he's wary of strangers and then they've both got colds and that makes him cranky." Mamie clung to her mother's skirts, staring up at Adam, her thumb stuck in her round baby's mouth. She had crust on her nostrils where the mucus had dried.

"I guess I should come see him more often," Adam said after he had handed the child over. He sat down to drink the coffee Cassie had poured him while she sat on the sofa and unbuttoned her blouse to nurse the boy. Mamie climbed up beside her mother and also wanted to nurse, crying "Me, me...me want tittie."

"One at a time," Cassie said as she gently pushed her daughter to the side. "After Ezra; he's younger and besides, you can eat that piece of bread." Mamie cuddled up next to her mother, sticking one thumb back in her mouth and holding a crust of bread in her other fist, staring at Adam. Ezra still wailed. He could only suck for a few seconds and then he had to lose the teat in order to breathe due to his congestion. Ezra's frustration was evident as he rubbed his eyes and fussed in Cassie's arms and Adam was relieved that he didn't have to deal with the child.

"What age can he start a bottle? I can't leave him here forever." Adam asked. He knew he needed to face the fact that he was going to have to take Ezra home to the Ponderosa and that he would have to break the news to his family; he had had only been putting off the inevitable.

"Well, he could take a bottle now but you got a woman to take care of him? I mean no offense nor nothin' but lessen you're gonna be takin' care of him, you need a woman around. A wet nurse would be best but I'd feed him goat's milk before I'd do cow's. Sometime a cow's milk is too rough on their bellies—gives 'em colic. For some reason, goat's milk is better. Do you have any goats on the Ponderosa?"

"No," Adam said. "But he's old enough, isn't he?" Adam actually hoped the infant wasn't old enough to take a bottle and that Cassie would say that Ezra needed to stay with her at least another year but she didn't.

"Yeah, he's old enough. Takes what, three, four days travel? Maybe even five. You might as well bring a woman back with you to get him. He's not around many men except for Luke and Luke don't pay no never mind to him. Hell, Luke don't even pay much attention to Mamie and she's his blood."

Adam sighed. _Doesn't she ever shut-up?_ Cassie talked constantly and usually Adam just pretended to listen, nodded and made a sound of acknowledgement but this time he couldn't as he needed the information.

Steps sounded on the porch. Adam stood up to look and Luke, a cowboy from a nearby ranch opened the front door and stepped in.

Cassie grinned. "Why speak of the devil and you'll see his tail," Cassie said. "I was just talkin' 'bout you."

"Yeah, I bet you was." Luke glanced at Adam who nodded and sat back down to finish his coffee.

"Coffee on the stove," Cassie said to him.

"Get me some, would you?"

"Can't you see I'm feeding Ezra? And after him, there's Mamie."

"I see that you have your teat hanging out for Mr. High-and-Mighty here to see. Ain't you got no modesty anymore?"

"When you have a squallin' baby, modesty don't mean much." Cassie stood up and Ezra started wailing again as the teat was pulled from his mouth. Breast milk began to spurt out in multiple thin streams. "I'll finish feeding him in the kitchen." Cassie stomped off making her annoyance known and Mamie followed, her thumb still in her mouth, staring at the man who had fathered her.

Luke sat down on the vacated, lumpy sofa and placed his weather-worn Stetson beside him. His hair was slick against his head from days-old sweat more than anything else. "When you takin' your bastard home and makin' him family? I 'magine he'll be thrilled to be one of you wealthy Cartwrights."

Adam stopped himself from telling Luke that he would take Ezra to the Ponderosa as soon as he married his own bastard's mother and began to support them himself other than their having to rely on the $60.00 a month he gave Cassie.

"Well," Adam said, "as soon as I take Ezra, the money ends—just so you know."

"I know it but let me tell you something, Cartwright, I'm not stupid. You only been here three times since that kid's been born and each time you are, you fix up around here and bring Cassie and Mamie presents and all, showing off your money. You rich boys are all alike—you buy whatever you want. And the reason I don't marry Cassie is 'cause she ain't learned to keep her legs together yet and I wouldn't be surprised iffen you don't find a warm greeting every time you show up."

"Well, well," Adam said, snidely. "What's the world coming to when a woman behaves like a woman?"

Cassie came back out, Ezra clamped on her breasts again and Mamie still whining and fussing and tugging on her skirts.

"Can't you shut her up?" Luke said. "I can't bear a whining, snotty-nosed kid and now you got two of them. Hell, Cassie. I got a good mind never to come back."

"You do what you want, Luke. See if I give a no never-mind. Mamie's got your temperament—short-fused and demandin'."

Luke stood up and it looked to Adam as if Luke was going to slap Cassie. Cassie must have thought so too because she flinched.

Adam stood up then; he wasn't going to allow it to happen and Luke looked to him and then recovered himself. He slapped on his hat. "Guess I'll be goin'," he told Cassie. "When you leavin', Cartwright?"

"In a bit but I'll be back in a week to fetch the baby." Adam surprised himself. He hadn't meant to say that, hadn't intended to take the child home yet but now that it was spoken, he had to follow through.

"'Bout time," Luke mumbled as he walked out the front door.

Adam waited until he heard the sound of a horse riding away. He was glad the man was gone as he didn't like Luke and they had clashed the only other time they had met which had been the first time Adam had visited two month old Ezra, the first time Adam knew about the child. Adam looked back at the sofa and Cassie was staring at him suspiciously. "What brought that about—that it's so soon you're takin' 'im?"

"It's just time I did. What do I need for him?" Adam sat back down, resting his elbows on his knees. His mind swirled and his stomach was in knots—he had declared too soon. He didn't want to take the child back with him—wanted desperately to forget his very existence.

"Well, I can have all his diapers clean and ready so you should have enough. Just hang them out the wagon to dry as you travel. Only the messy ones need to be washed. I have enough gowns—you paid for 'em—and blankets and such. But you'll need a woman to hold him and put him to sleep and such and to feed 'im. Unless you think you can do it all yourself. So if you got no wet nurse then you'll need bottles and rubber teats and I'd suggest a goat. Goat's milk seems to be easier…"

Cassie went on talking, going over the same information as earlier and Adam wanted to say, "You've already told me! Just answer my goddamn question!" but he didn't, just listened while Cassie went on and on about cow's milk being difficult for a baby sometimes and about colic and other boring facts about infants and feeding _and shitting_, Adam thought. To him, that's all babies did—eat and shit. He failed to see any of Ezra's infantile charms that had endeared him to Cassie. Ezra, to Adam, was just another infant but one whose conception had been unfortunately attributed to him. Ann had been the clever one—but then he knew that she was smart, smart enough to know that he couldn't outright deny paternity. She had trapped him irrevocably and he now had an albatross around his neck named Ezra.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Placerville had a small mercantile and Adam stopped on his way through. It occurred to him that he could order the supplies he would need for Ezra there and not in Virginia City. Besides, he knew that should he order baby bottles in Brown's Mercantile, rumors would be flying within an hour. Adam wanted to inform his family about Ezra before he told anyone else—i_if_ /ihe told anyone else. He didn't want to have to answer questions and saw Ezra as living proof of one boring afternoon's indiscretion.

Adam had gone to Placerville to search for the man who looked so much like him-Tom Burns. Tom found out that he could fool a close neighbor of Adam Cartwright's into thinking he was Adam Cartwright after the man had called out a greeting to him. Tom also found that he could even fool Virginia City's banker into letting him withdraw much-needed money from the Cartwright account; it was too easy. Of course, that wasn't his initial intent, but Burns had used it to his advantage and that infuriated Adam. He felt a fool having been used that way and that made him angry. But when Adam reached Placerville and went to the saloon to have a drink to clear the dust from his throat, he was set upon first by Ann the barmaid who was so happy to see "Tom" again that she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately—much to Adam's pleasant surprise.

But immediately after Ann's kiss, Adam was set upon by two men. He found himself in a bar fight, then arrested and thrown in jail by Placerville's sheriff who did so because he believed he was arresting Tom Burns whom he had told never to return. The identity confusion was soon cleared up, but Adam found himself mired in the intrigue of Tom Burn's life—the man had been murdered according to Ann, Ezra's mother, who had followed Adam to Lubbock and eventually convinced Adam to be an ally. The three of them Adam, Ann and the sheriff of Placerville, entrapped those who had murdered Tom Burns—his wife and a friend, her former lover. But before the plan could be set to action, he and Ann—whose last name he never even bothered to learn—wiled away an afternoon in a hotel room making good use of the bed. And although Adam knew that Ann was attracted to him only because he looked like Tom Burns, the man with whom she was truly in love, he nevertheless enjoyed an enthusiastic tussle in the sheets. It was only a few hours one afternoon and because of that afternoon and a few hours of pleasure, Adam Cartwright now had a child, or so Ann had claimed before she died.

Adam stopped by the local mercantilists' after he left Cassie's heading for the Ponderosa. Cassie had packed him some food and he had two filled canteens for the journey.

"Now make sure that you eat those biscuits and bacon sandwiches before they get too cold and I packed you some sugar cookies I made. I also put some cold sliced beef wrapped in that oilcloth and there's some sour dough bread."

"Thank you," Adam said as he patted his saddlebags that contained the packets of food. Cassie was a good cook, Adam had to admit. She baked as well and her rhubarb pies gave Hop Sing a run for his money. And when Adam turned to wave goodbye, Cassie stood on her porch with Ezra on her hip and Mamie jumping off the bottom step onto the bare ground and landing where the walkway prevented the grass from growing. Then Mamie would step up again and jump down again. But all he could think of was what he would need when he came to fetch Ezra.

"Baby bottles," Adam said to the spectacled clerk. "I need to know if you stock baby bottles," Adam felt himself flush. He felt like a damn fool standing at the counter and asking for baby bottles.

The man looked at him, puzzled. "You feedin' an orphaned piglet or calf or such 'cause if you are…" It was obvious to the clerk that the man before him was a rancher. He had the start of wrinkles around his eyes and his skin was tanned. He also wore the ordinary work clothes of a cowhand including the roush boots but there was an elegance about him too. His voice was cultured and he spoke well—a dichotomy from what the clerk expected from his usual customers.

"No, they're for a baby—a child. Do you have any?"

"No sir, but I can order them." He reached under the counter and pulled out a well-thumbed catalogue. The clerk looked at an index and then found the page. He turned the catalogue around so that Adam could see and there was a small drawing of a baby bottle. It had an artificial teat at the end of a tube, the other end snapped over the neck of the bottle.

"How long would it take to get them in?"

"Less'n two weeks," the clerk said. "They only come from a warehouse in Sacramento."

"All right, order some."

"They come as a dozen. You want the whole dozen?"

Adam was puzzled. He had no idea how many bottles a baby would need. "Yes. I'll take a dozen. How much?"

"Four dollars—that includes freight costs."

"And they'll be here in two weeks?"

"Yes, sir." The clerk turned the catalogue back around so he could see it. "I'll send out the order today for another two bits—the cost of the wire."

Adam placed five dollars in paper money on the counter. "Here—keep the change but they had better be here when I come through again because I need them."

"Yes, sir." Something about the man's demeanor let him know that he had better have the bottles packed and ready to go.

"And diapers?" Adam asked. "Do you carry them?"

"Yes, sir. Always have those in stock. I have hundreds of 'em."

"Good. Have those bottles here and waiting for me two weeks from today, understand?"

"Yes, sir. What's the name?"

"It doesn't matter. Just don't sell those bottles to anyone else or I'll be…displeased." Adam tipped his hat as a woman came from the back and joined the man at the counter. He then walked out and the couple watched him through the front window as he mounted his horse and rode off.

"What'd the stranger want?' she asked. "Directions?"

"Baby bottles. A whole dozen."

"Baby bottles? What'd he want them for? Does he have an orphaned pig or some such?"

The man made a sound of disgust. "Just like woman to be so nosy," he said and took out a pad to make out the order for the bottles.

As Adam had traveled the familiar way from Placerville, he planned various ways that he would break the news to his family—his father especially. He knew that his father wouldn't be outright disapproving but he also knew that he would be able to see it in his father's eyes; he would be disappointed—and hurt. He just hoped his father wouldn't say as he had to Joe and Hoss upon occasion, "I thought I had raised you to know better. I see now I failed." That would cut to the quick of his soul if his father said that to him

Adam, despite his seeming indifference, cared deeply for his father's opinion of him. He was the eldest and he had spent the first five years of his life with his father; they had been each other's only companions those years as they traveled west. Some nights when Adam had trouble sleeping due to fear of Indian attacks or some other phantom of dread that raised its head, Ben would lie down with Adam and Adam would say, "Tell me again, Pa, about the dream." That was what he and his father called their quest to start a ranch out west—the dream.

And Adam remembered one special night when they were in Indiana. He had been left alone in a small rented room almost the whole day while his father had worked loading bricks to be taken to a building site. His father was especially weary and had eaten little of the bread and cheese he had brought home for dinner along with a small tin of milk. At bedtime, when Adam was tucked in, he had asked for the story of the dream.

"Wouldn't you rather hear about Jack and the Beanstalk?" Ben reached over and ruffled Adam's hair. Such a beautiful boy. Women always commented on his son's beauty, his sweet mouth and dimples and his intelligence. Adam learned things quickly, picked up on calculating sums at his young age and had the ability to visualize abstract ideas. And the boy was pragmatic and logical—just like his mother, Ben thought.

Elizabeth, his mother, also had a talent for peeling off the trappings of a problem and seeing the core and then approaching it with logical resolve. Adam had the same talent and many times Ben felt inferior to his 5 year old's visionary ability. But when it came down to it, Adam was a child and he needed the comfort of his father's strength and the knowledge of his father's love.

"All right, Adam, but you have to promise me that you'll go to sleep right after. Promise?"

"I promise, Pa."

"All, right." Ben lay down on the narrow bed next to Adam and stared at the ceiling. "Out west is an unexplored land and men can make claim to the land if they have the money to buy it."

"That's why we save every penny we can, isn't it, Pa?"

Ben chuckled and glanced over at Adam. "Yes, that's why we save every penny we can. And the land is beautiful and there are mountains with white caps all year round that kiss the blue sky."

"That's snow. It's because it's colder the higher you go and even when the snow melts on the ground, there's still snow on the mountains. But you know, Pa, that doesn't really make sense. If you're higher, shouldn't you be closer to the sun? Shouldn't it be hotter?"

"Well, it seems as if it should but it isn't—I don't know why but it isn't."

"When I find out, Pa, I'll tell you."

"Thank you, Adam. I'm sure you will. Now, the land is green as far as the eye can see except for the area where there's a desert. That's why we're going to northern Nevada where there are lakes and tall pines. We'll carve out a place for us and…"

"For us and any brothers and sisters I might have. Right, Pa?"

"That's right, Adam. We'll have the most beautiful spread for miles and miles—as far as the eye can see and it will be ours."

"Pa? Are you going to marry again?"

"What?" Ben was surprised at Adam's question. "Why are you asking that?"

" "Cause you always say the land's also for any brothers or sisters I might have but you need to marry for them, right?"

"Well, yes. A man marries the mother of his children."

"Pa, what about that woman in the last town we stayed, Sally, the one who watched me while you worked that short time at the mill? How come she had a baby but wasn't married? If a man is supposed to marry the mother…"

"Adam," Ben said sitting up and swinging his legs to the floor, "there are a lot of reasons why people don't have husbands or wives and yet have children. Look at us. I have a son—you—and I'm not married, am I? Now, I'm really tired and tomorrow is more of the same work as today. Do you mind if I go sit for a while and smoke my pipe?"

Adam sat up and placed a small hand on his father's shoulder. "That's okay, Pa. I can hear about the dream another time."

"Adam," Ben said, "you could tell me about the dream, you've heard it so many times." Ben held Adam's face in his hands and kissed his forehead. "I love you, son." Ben rose to leave.

"Pa?"

Ben sighed in exasperation. "What now, Adam?"

"Are you glad I'm your son?"

"Gladder about it than anything else in my whole life."

"I'm glad you're my pa too?'

Ben smiled and then told Adam goodnight and shut the door behind him. But that night Adam had lain in the dark for quite a while and thought about the dream, of the land ahead and also about brothers and sisters and maybe having a mother and a father unlike Sally's baby, so he had said a silent prayer that one day he would, that one day he might have both a mother and a brother or sister; he wouldn't be so lonely then.

And now, surrounded by miles of emptiness, Adam's heart broke for the child he left behind at Cassie's who didn't know a father's love, didn't know the comforting depth of a father's voice or the feel of strong arms supporting him—just as Sally's baby of so long ago hadn't. But then Adam was struck with the thought that the child, Ezra, might never know a mother's love either and it caused him to catch his breath. He himself had wanted both a mother and a father and every child deserved one.

As he rode, Adam again considered that night so long ago and the hollowness of need and he felt pangs of guilt for not wanting the child but then, there was the question of whether or not Ezra was really his. There was no sure way to know and that was the point—the point that drove into his heart.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

During dinner the day of Adam's return from Placerville, Adam ate very little, pushing his food around on his plate.

"Mistah Adam," Hop Sing had said looking worried, "something wrong with food or you? You not eat."

"There's nothing wrong with the food." Adam pushed the plate away and pulled his coffee cup in front of him.

"Yeah, Hop Sing," Joe added, "see how many helpings Hoss had? Nothing wrong with the food at all." But Joe knew that the problem was with Adam as he had passed up the chance to get in a dig at Hoss' huge appetite.

"Have vanilla cake with boiled icing inch thick for dessert." Hop Sing grinned.

"None for me," Adam said. "I'll just have more coffee." Adam stood and walked to the sideboard to pour himself another cup while Hop Sing took away plates.

"What's put you off your feed?" Hoss asked. "You ain't been the same since you came back from Placerville. You got a woman there?"

Ben cleared his throat.

"That's a fair question," Hoss said. "He heads off to Placerville 'bout once every two-three months and don't say nothin' about it when he comes home and won't answer no questions."

"That's your brother's business," Ben said although he himself had questioned Adam about it twice already and received no satisfactory answer.

Adam sighed deeply before he spoke. "Actually, it's all of your business. I have something to tell you about my trips to Placerville." Adam sat back down at the table and with all eyes on him, even Hop Sing's who had returned with the cake, he told them about Ann and Ezra and they listened quietly until he finished.

"So basically, that's it," Adam said. "It could be mine but my guess is that it's Tom Burns' son. Ann had said that he stayed up in her room with her when he was on the run and that they were together for a few days, talking and…well, she never said anything else they did together but if she slept with me because I looked like Tom-only I prefer to think he looked like me-well, my guess is that she fell on her back for him as well. I think she loved him."

"You know Adam," Hoss said, "you keep callin' Ezra 'it.' Whyn't you call him 'Ezra." That's his name."

Ben Cartwright had listened to the news about the child from his eldest son and not said anything. Both Hoss and Joe also had sat and listened, not asking any questions until Adam had finished talking and relating that Ann had died from pneumonia a bit over a month after giving birth to a healthy boy. She had turned her child over to Cassie who had a small daughter, to feed and care for. Cassie being a generous woman with both her heart as well as her body as Adam found out, welcomed the child who was a beautiful boy with dark swirls of hair, a cupid's mouth and swarthy skin. Cassie had sworn to Ann that her child would be loved and cared for as if he were her own.

Cassie had related to Adam how she had sat by Ann's bedside, holding her pale hand while the woman struggled for every breath. "Looks just like Tom Burns. Shame he's dead," Cassie had said.

" 'No,' Ann said to me while she lay there slowly dyin'. 'Ezra's father is Adam Cartwright of the Ponderosa in Nevada. You know, the one who looked like Tom Burns. Remember him?' And I did remember you from that time you showed up in the saloon and Ann thought you were Tom. 'Let 'im know he has a son—he'll do the right thing by the boy.' So I asked her how she could be sure seein' as how you two were the spittin' image of one another. And then she said, 'He's alive and he's rich,' she'd said with her eyes closed. 'That's how I'm sure.' "

Adam had to credit Cassie with openness; she hadn't needed to tell him what Ann had said concerning his being named the father before she died. When Adam went to look at the record of birth in the Placerville's Court of Records, he saw that he was named as the father and that the child's full name was Ezra Thomas Cartwright. Adam snorted with ill humor when he saw it—Ann apparently wasn't as sure as to who fathered Ezra as she claimed. And Adam also saw that Ann's last name was Walsh—something he never knew. If brought home how foolish he had been that afternoon.

He was determined not to repeat the mistake so the first time Cassie offered him comfort, he declined. "I'm not going to be named the father of another child," he had stated despite being tempted.

She had laughed and shrugged off her gown. "Long as I'm nursin', there won't be no baby."

Adam also wondered since Cassie had seemed to have fallen in love with the boy, if she hoped to keep him—and to still receive his support each month. But then, Adam admitted to himself, he always looked for hidden motives, always looked for the dark side of a person's nature but Cassie seemed far too open and none too capable of sophisticated machinations. But Ann, the fact that she had given Ezra Tom Burns' first name led him to determine that she believed that Ezra might very well be Tom's son. He knew he had to let his family know of his paternal doubts and hoped they would be more accepting than he was. If Ezra was going to come to the Ponderosa, he didn't want them biased against the boy but to welcome him. After all, Ezra needed someone's love since Adam wasn't sure if he could truly do so—if every time he looked at the boy he wouldn't be reminded at how he had been irrevocably bound to the boy by the name Cartwright that Ann had given him.

Adam paused before answering Hoss. Both Joe and his father were waiting for his response as well as Hoss.

"I suppose I don't really think of him as a person yet. And…the fact that he may not even be mine…"

Ben rose from the table and while his sons watched, he walked into the great room where he sat down in his favorite chair and reached for his pipe. He packed tobacco in it and all his sons remained silent; they knew a proclamation was to come so they waited. Adam turned in his chair at the end of the table and Hop Sing went back to the kitchen; Hop Sing knew that Mr. Cartwright would come talk to him later about what would be needed from him. They all knew that and despite their ages, Adam, Hoss and Joe respected their father's last words on any subject.

Ben lit the pipe and puffed a few times and then removed it and cleared his throat.

"Since there's no way to know who Ezra's father really is and it could very well be you, Adam, I think that as of now, right now, we should accept it as fact that I have a grandson and he will live here with us. We won't discuss any morality as to his birth or Adam's behavior…"

"Pa, I accept that I didn't use the greatest judgment…"

"It doesn't matter, Adam, but as far as we or anyone else is concerned, Ezra is a Cartwright and will be raised as one."

Joe finally spoke. "You think we should lie, Pa, and say that Adam was married—you know, to spare the baby any rumors or such?"

Adam spoke up. "Wait a minute, now. I'm tired of lies and subterfuge."

"Well you ain't exactly been honest, Adam, taking off for Placerville all those times and saying nothin' 'bout the reason. What's one more lie iffen it keeps Ezra from being called a bastard all his life."

Adam stood up. "Just say he's my son and if anyone has any questions about it, they can ask me—if they've got the balls. Now I'm going to bed. Tomorrow I have to find a woman to come with me to fetch Ezra and to take care of him for a while. Hop Sing isn't a nursemaid and doesn't have the time anymore to care for an infant."

"Adam," Ben said, rising from his chair. "I'll have a room ready, a nursery, so to speak, when you return with the child. I think I'll enjoy buying the things a baby needs." Ben offered a weak smile.

"Well, don't buy baby bottles. I bought a whole dozen in Placerville." Adam headed for the stairs and just as he reached the newel post, Joe spoke up.

"What about Sylvia? When are you going to tell her?"

Adam paused. He had considered how Sylvia might take the news, Sylvia with her soft, dark hair and gray eyes. "I don't know."

And once Adam was gone, a sense of despair fell over Ben, Hoss and Joe.

"Think it's like the cuckoo, Pa?" Joe had asked. "Think we're going to be raising another man's child?"

"I can't think of that," Ben said. "I have to believe he's one of us. And you two had better change your thinking if you're seeing it in any other way. If we believe it enough then Adam may as well…I hope."

"I don't know," Joe said. "You know how Adam is. When he's got his mind set one way, it takes a lot to convince him otherwise."

Hoss sat musing before he spoke. "Wonder what it'll be like having a woman around, livin' here. I guess with both a woman and a baby around we'll have to watch our language, won't we?"

"Yeah," Joe said, "and you'll have to keep from dumping all the food on the table onto your plate. There'll be two more mouths to feed."

"Oh, yeah. Hadn't thought of that." Hoss looked troubled and both Joe and Ben laughed but long after Hoss and Joe had also left for bed, Ben Cartwright sat staring into the fire and smoking his pipe considering how life always managed to turn and bite a person in the ass. "And the chickens have come home to roost." Ben sighed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Adam walked into Dr. Martin's surgery. No one was waiting in the anteroom so Adam called out, "Ho, Paul? You here?" If there had been no response, Adam decided her would go around the building and knock on the front door of the living quarters; Paul had to be home as the door to the surgery was unlocked.

The doctor stepped out into the waiting area and smiled when he saw Adam. "Well, you look healthy enough—at least judging from your lungs. Someone sick at your house?"

"No, but I need your help, well, I hope you can help me." Paul was about ten years older than Adam and had a kind face yet when he was sitting and thinking, his face fell into lines of worry and distress. Adam didn't understand how a man could see disease and death on such a regular basis and still find joy in life but Paul somehow managed. Once Adam had asked Paul how he kept on doctoring when so many people didn't survive. Paul said that when he brings a child into the world who might have otherwise died or saved a person's life and helped them contribute in the world for a few more years, it helped in some way to lift him up and to keep on going.

"Okay," Adam, Paul said. "Care for a cup of coffee? I was just about to transcribe some notes and in order to do that, I have to drink coffee to keep me awake. And a homesteader's wife baked me a cream cake to thank me for helping her child through the measles. How about a piece?"

"No, but thanks anyway. But don't let me stop you."

"Okay, c'mon." Paul led Adam to his office off the surgery with its sterile metal table and the glass-fronted doors of the cabinets through which Adam could see the glass jars of cotton balls and the many amber colored glass vials of potions. Paul scooped the ground coffee beans into the coffee pot and placed it on a small stove that sat in the corner. Paul had opened the high window in the room but the stove made the room hot and Adam felt uncomfortable. The slight breeze that drifted in provided a slight respite. "Now just how can I help you?"

"Do you know of anyone who might serve as a wet nurse?" Paul turned to Adam looking surprised. He had heard no gossip about a child on the Ponderosa. Do you know a woman, someone who is still nursing a child and has the time and needs the money to take on another child for at least six months?" Adam had pulled off his hat and was lightly slapping it against his thigh. He hated having to talk about Ezra—he felt it made his seem weak, a pawn in Ann's game, but he needed help and if by revealing his peccadillo, he could achieve that help, then he would do what he had to do.

"Well, let's see." Paul sat down at his desk and motioned to a chair but Adam shook his head no." I helped deliver a breech baby about three months ago for some homesteaders about three miles west. They could use the money but she has four other children to raise and her husband did drink himself into a stupor the night she delivered."

"But she's nursing the one, right?"

"Yes, she is. Most women do—it's easiest and it's cheap."

"Well, I'm assuming she has two breasts."

Paul considered Adam. It seemed that all he wanted was a woman—any woman who could nurse a child. "I wouldn't recommend her—not because I think she's a bad woman but an infant would only receive a modicum of affection since she has so many children and a house to take care of—all the things that these put-upon women have to do. How old is the child you want to…farm out?"

Adam was taken aback by the term Paul had used but he saw the appropriateness of the term as a reflection of his attitude. "Almost a year—another three months and it'll be a year old."

"Is 'it' a boy or a girl?"

"A boy."

"I see. And I suppose that his mother has died?" Paul watched Adam closely noting that he was obviously uncomfortable talking about the infant.

"Yes," Adam said impatiently. "Now can you help me out or not?"

Paul thought, tapping his chin while Adam shifted from one foot to another; he was impatient. Time was passing and he had many things to consider before he brought Ezra home. He hadn't anticipated that Paul might not be able to help.

"At a year, an infant can be weaned from the breast—bottle fed or even with a small cup if it's held and gently tipped. Actually, a child can be weaned from the breast any time, it's just that I believe that mother's milk is healthier, gives the child a better start in life health-wise—prevents diarrhea and they seem to grow stronger. He could also eat soft food like mashed potatoes, thin cereals and ground meat. Also finely chopped fruit or some vegetables. Hard tack is especially good for teething."

"Why are you telling me all this?" To Adam, it was just extraneous information that had nothing to do with his quest for a wet nurse.

"Because you don't necessarily need a wet nurse, anyone can help tend a baby. A woman is best but even a man—such as yourself even—can raise a child. Your father can attest to that, can't he?"

Adam said nothing. He sighed in frustration; Paul was angering him. Why couldn't Paul just say yes or no, that he could help or not help? Paul's palavering about food a baby could eat was riling him.

"All right," Paul said. "See Reverend Cleary. He has a young woman working for him at the parsonage since his wife became ill. You know, cooking, cleaning, taking care of Mrs. Cleary, but she's regaining her strength now and they'll probably not need the girl much longer. She might be able to help you out as she'll need employment."

"You think she'd do? I mean she'd have to stay at the Ponderosa and there are a few men there," Adam said in a sarcastic tone, "all of my family, Hop Sing and the ranch hands. I thought that if the child was sent out to live with another family, it would be easier."

"For whom?" Paul had a small smile on his face. It amused him to see the usually confident Adam Cartwright upset and unsure of himself.

Adam showed his annoyance. "All right. I'll go see the Reverend. Thanks, Paul—I think." Adam put his hat on and turned to leave.

"I wish I could have been more help," Paul said with a small smile.

"That makes two of us," Adam said without looking back.

Paul smiled as Adam strode out. But he did wonder what was going on. He went back to the open journal in front of him and continued to expand with more detail his hastily written notes from the small notebook he carried to the large book. He wondered what scandal Adam was working so hard to hide and all he could think of was a child—a child fathered out of wedlock. A child without a mother—just as Adam had been-and Hoss and Joe. Paul shook his head at life's ironies. A motherless child fathered by a man who had been a motherless child.

Adam sat in Pastor Cleary's parlor and explained why he had come, what Paul had told him about the girl who had helped out during Mrs. Cleary's illness.

"I'm assuming the young lady who answered the door is the one in question," Adam said. He had declined coffee although the reverend, a man in his fifties, sat and enjoyed a cup.

"Yes, it was. I'm glad my wife is so much better but I do hate to lose the girl. And she will need work. Let me call her in." The pastor stood up and went to the drawn portieres that separated the rooms. "Fiona! Will you come here, child?" He went back to his chair.

The girl walked in. She had red hair that was a mess of curls that she tried to tame by pulling the sides away from her face and holding them back with combs. She wasn't particularly pretty, too plain of face and lashes so light in color that they barely showed around her blue eyes. A sprinkling of freckles covered her small nose and cheeks.

The reverend stood up. "Fiona, this is Mr. Adam Cartwright."

She gave a small curtsey toward Adam. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir," she said in her lilting Irish accent with its melodious rises and falls—like a musical instrument, Adam thought.

"Mr. Cartwright has need of someone to care for an infant and since we won't be able to use you after Sunday, since thanks to you, my wife is so much better, well, it might be something for you—a job, employment. Now I'll leave you two alone so that Mr. Cartwright and you can discuss the offer. Excuse me. I have a sermon to write."

The pastor left and Adam asked the girl to sit.

"I don't have time to sit, sir. I have a pie in the oven and it's about done. I also have dinner to start."

"Um, well, you wouldn't have to cook or bake if you take the position—we have a cook and a housekeeper already—Hop Sing."

"Hop Sing? He must be one of the heathen Chinese who hold with the idea of many gods."

"Yes, he's Chinese but I, we, that is my family and I, don't consider him a heathen. He's been with us for a long time and his religious beliefs are his own. He's treated as a member of the family."

"Is that so, sir? And what member of the family does all the cookin' and the cleanin'? That should be the wife, should it not, sir?"

Adam became annoyed; the girl wouldn't do under ordinary circumstances—too argumentative-but he needed someone and soon so he merely ignored her last comment.

"What's your name, girl?"

"Fiona Flanagan, sir."

"How old are you?"

"I'll be eighteen my next birthday."

"So you're 17."

"Yes, sir."

"Have you ever taken care of infants?"

"Oh, and who do you suppose raised all the brats my mother gave birth to after my brother and me while my da drank away every coin he made and caused my poor mother to take in washing and sewing from the others what were raised higher in the world?"

"Why can't you just answer my questions?" Why people refused to give straight answers Adam couldn't understand.

"That's what I've been doin', sir."

"When I asked your age, all you had to say was 17. When I asked if you had taken care of an infant, all you had to say was yes or no. Just answer my goddamn questions and let's get this over with." Fiona dropped her eyes and Adam felt guilty for being so harsh and cursing in front of her but she did irritate him. "I apologize for my language. Let me try this a different way. I need a…person to go with me to Placerville in California to pick up….my son who is almost a year old. I need someone to feed him—with a bottle-and take care of him on the trip back. Then, once we're back at the Ponderosa..."

"The what, sir?" She looked at him questioningly.

"The Ponderosa-the ranch my family owns. It's a few miles out of Virginia City." Fiona nodded and Adam went on. "Anyway, once we're home, I need someone to sleep in the room with him and take care of him while the rest of us go about our necessary business. If you take the job, you'll be totally responsible for the care and feeding of the child for a time. Do you think you could do that?"

"I think I could, sir but shouldn't the question be, if I want the job? I'm a good Catholic girl, besides the fact that I work for a Methodist preacher who doesn't yet accept the idea of the holy saints and such. I don't know about travelin' alone with a man who isn't family all the way to California. And I also don't know about livin' in a house, under the same roof with a heathen who prays to false idols."

Adam rubbed his face with his hands, sighed and looked at Fiona. "Then that's a 'no'—you won't take the job."

"I didn't say that, sir. I would be inclined to accept a job taking care of any infant born into such a situation with no mother—or am I assuming too much?"

"No, his mother is dead."

Fiona scrutinized him and Adam felt uncomfortable. "I noticed that you did not say, 'your wife,' so I'm assumin' the child's a bastard?"

Suddenly Adam was embarrassed. His son was a bastard and Fiona, being a good Catholic girl, would judge the child as damned due to the sins of his parents. "Yes."

"Then I'll take the job." Adam was surprised but Fiona went on to explain her stance. "The poor little thing will need someone like me to help him. I would be glad to take the child into my care and to my bosom."

Adam suppressed a smile; Fiona didn't have much of a bosom. Actually, she was practically stick straight. "Fine. Be packed and ready to leave in two days. The trip takes about four days by wagon—a covered wagon. Bring all that you need and anything else that needs to be taken to the Ponderosa. I'll send someone to pick up your trunk or whatever you have. Now would you get the pastor so that I can tell him you're taking the job?"

"Yes, sir." She said. "Oh, but could you tell me the wee one's name?"

"Ezra. Ezra Cartwright."

"That's a fine name—Ezra—but I do think it's a Hebrew name, isn't it?"

"It's a biblical name, like Adam. My name is from the Bible—the Old Testament. I would think a good Catholic girl like you would know that."

"I do know the story of creation and of Adam and Eve. I have to say that when I was young, my da was a Bible reader; he would read to my brother and me all the 'Thou shalt not's, and all the stories of the terrible sinners and their horrendous punishments like Lot's wife being turned to a pillar of salt for looking back on Sodom and Gomorrah. He told us all sorts of parables and tales-that is until the liquor grabbed ahold of him and wouldn't let go. But then, he said that them people in the Bible, they drank wine—quite a bit and that even Jesus Christ himself took a bit of the grape. 'It doesn't say, thou shalt not drink wine,' my da would state as a way of excuse. I don't remember no Ezra in the Good Book though."

"He's from the Hebrew Bible."

"Oh, I see. Well, it's a fine enough name I suppose. But I do have to admit that sometimes, when my da was 'under the influence' as my mother used to say, he would get the stories of the fairies and goblins and such all mixed up with Solomon and others from the Bible, so it's possible that I believe some names are Biblical when they aren't in actuality, Mr. Cartwright. But I'll get the reverend for you, sir."

"Thank you, Fiona." Adam sighed with relief as she left the room. Now he had someone to help with Ezra and even if Fiona Flanagan didn't work out, he would at least have Ezra on the Ponderosa by then and he could face the next set of problems. But he still had to talk to Sylvia.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The door opened and Sylvia stood with the lamplight behind her like a celestial nimbus. Adam practically gasped at the suddenness of her beauty—so delicate—so tender—so fragile both in spirit and body.

"Adam!" Sylvia's face lit up with a smile. "How wonderful to see you? Come in," Sylvia stepped aside and Adam pulled off his hat and stepped inside. "When did you get back? Oh…I didn't mean that question to sound as if I was checking up to see how long it was before you visited me once you were home. I—oh, Adam it's just that I've missed you so."

Adam grinned. To see Sylvia flustered instead of him was a nice change as far as he was concerned. Usually he was the awkward one, the one who stepped over his own feet and whose tongue seemed to swell so much that he couldn't speak properly when faced with her beauty and her innocence. Sylvia was only a few years older than the girl, Fiona, who he had just hired, but the two women seemed years apart for some reason despite the fact that Sylvia was still pure and blooming with her youthful enthusiasm for life. Adam leaned over and gave Sylvia a soft kiss and she dipped her head slightly afterwards as if she was embarrassed. Then she raised her eyes and Adam felt his breathing step up at her naked expression of love toward him.

"Come sit down, Adam. Aunt Polly's in bed—hopefully asleep or she'll be down here chaperoning us still wearing her nightcap. Please, sit down." Sylvia took Adam's arm and led him to the settee and he couldn't look away from her. "She'll be beside herself when she finds I've entertained you alone." Sylvia laughed lightly.

Adam waited for Sylvia to sit on the settee first and then he followed suit.

"Oh, Adam how rude of me! May I offer you some coffee—perhaps some tea cookies. Aunt Polly bought some at the bakery just yesterday and they're quite delicate in flavor—just the perfect blend of vanilla and…" Sylvia began to rise but Adam took her hands and pulled her gently back down to the settee.

"Sylvia, please…I came to see you and that's all—that's enough for me. I don't care for any coffee or cookies—just your company—that's all I hunger for, all I thirst for." Adam examined her face. She was so lovely-like a rose that was on the verge of blooming. "I've missed you these past few days and thought about us-I have something important to discuss with you."

"Important? All right." Sylvia gently smiled and Adam still held her hands in his. He looked down at them, so small and pale and he rubbed his thumbs across the backs of them. He cherished these moments alone with her as there weren't that many; her Aunt Polly, or "Agus" as Adam called her in reference to the 100 eyed giant whom Hera set to watch over Io whom Zeus desired, watched them closely whenever he visited. But Adam had once whispered to Sylvia that not only was her Aunt Polly Argus, but she was also the gadfly—always stinging and causing discord. Sylvia had giggled at that and then she had slipped her arm through his as they walked into the church followed by Aunt Polly who stepped up her pace, not keeping a respectable distance now—after all, Adam and Sylvia were touching in the church and people would talk. Polly felt she had a duty to protect her niece from any gossip concerning her and the eldest Cartwright brother.

Adam cleared his throat; he wasn't sure how to broach the subject of Ezra with Sylvia. She was no naïve, young girl and although she was young, she had a sense of self, a certain self-respect that he admired and he was afraid that while he told her the story of Ezra and Ann and Tom Burns, while he tried to explain the situation, her face would change. He didn't know how he would react if the expression of love that was now lighting up her face would change to one of revulsion. Within a few seconds, his whole life would change—he knew that. _What will you think of me, Sylvia? Will you detest me for my weaknesses? Oh, Sylvia..._

When Adam Cartwright had first laid eyes on Miss Sylvia Matthews, it had been a little over a year ago and on a hot summer day. The sweat band on the inside of Adam's hat was soaked and his shirt was stuck to him with sweat. He had been to the bank to deposit a draft from the Sierra-Nevada Railroad Line as his father had requested, ordered more alfalfa, the best feed for young calves _Pa, we ought to grow our own alfalfa. It's drought resistant and we have that acreage that was used at one time for growing potatoes…_ and as he was passing the confectionary shop, he glanced in and paused. A young woman was sitting at one of the small round tables in front of the large front window eating a rapidly melting dish of ice cream. Adam grinned at the look of disappointment on her face as she spooned up the white, creamy soup with one still-frozen island in the middle of a white sea. The young woman had a lovely, gentle profile and her dark hair was neatly piled up on her head. She wore a small straw boater with a bright red grosgrain ribbon around the crown. And as hot as it was, she wore a starched, high-necked, long-sleeved, white shirt with a small watch pinned to it.

Adam was so charmed watching her as she spooned the liquid ice cream to her mouth that he didn't even notice that an older woman sitting across from her had perceived his interest in the young beauty and that she must have said something because the lovely young woman turned and looked at him, her eyes wide and as gray as Lake Tahoe when a storm was brewing. Adam tipped his hat and she blushed and glanced down but then, she looked back up and smiled gently. And Adam was thoroughly enchanted.

The older woman stood up and frowned and Adam thought it best to move on but he wondered who the young woman was; he had never seen her before but now Virginia City was so big that there were many people he didn't know and there were now three churches—a Methodist, Presbyterian and a Baptist church and each had their exclusive members. Adam thought that he was going to have attend church that Sunday, something in which he had been slacking, to see if she was in attendance. If not, well, she was just another pretty girl and the world was full of them. And soon, she was out of mind as Adam went about his business.

But Adam hadn't had to wait until Sunday. Two nights later, Miss Sylvia Matthews and her Aunt Polly showed up for dinner at the Ponderosa in the company of Sheriff Roy Coffee. Ben had met Miss Polly Matthews, Sylvia's aunt, in Roy Coffee's office where she had burst in and heartily complained about young boys running sticks along her picket fence as they passed on the street.

"And they make the most horrible clacking noise!" Polly had said, her brows furrowed. "It causes the dog in the yard next door to bark something awful which, I'm sure, is why they do it. I know that they're damaging the fence—I've seen the small chips in the wood, and I have already paid a handy man to make all sorts of repairs to that house and I want it to look nice from the street. He's just put up that picket fence and painted it white and I've planted roses. These young ruffians just have to be stopped!"

"Miss Matthews, just calm yourself a bit." Roy turned to Ben who had been suppressing a smile at the woman's strident complaint. "Now, Ben Cartwright here," Roy had said motioning to Ben, "has raised three boys. He can tell you that boys love to make noise—all sorts of noise. Matter of fact, Ben. Miss Matthews here is a single lady—I met her when she first came to town-and she has a young, unmarried niece who's staying wither for a spell. Now if I had three unmarried sons, well, I'd invite the ladies over for dinner."

Ben had stammered a bit, not knowing what to say. He looked sternly at Roy who grinned back.

"Why how nice that would be," Mrs. Matthews said. "My niece hasn't met any young men yet and she's getting over a tragic engagement—her fiancé passed—very sad, very sad. And you have three sons, correct? All of marriageable age?"

"Well yes—three, but they are all seeing other ladies, I mean not really courting yet, but…I tell you what," Ben said, thinking of a way to turn the tables. "Roy here is a widower—his wife died years ago and I know he becomes lonely or so he's told me, so why doesn't he bring both you and your niece out to dinner tomorrow night? What do you say, Roy?"

"Now, Ben…I don't think that Miss Matthews would want my company. After all…"

"Why I'd be delighted," she said turning to Roy and giving him her most charming smile. Ben also smiled but with a sense of victory. He had just turned the tables on Roy.

"Well, I, um…all right. Tomorrow. I'll be there at 6:00 to fetch you…and your niece. Since Ben is a widower as well, wouldn't it be nice if both you and your niece found a Cartwright as a husband." And Roy had then grinned widely at Ben—he had delivered the last salvo. And when the plans had been settled and Miss Polly Matthews had left, Ben turned on Roy but Roy burst into laughter.

"You wait," Ben said, furious. "You're not the only one who can play Cupid!" Ben had stormed out of the sheriff's office to Roy's helpless laughter.

The night Sylvia was there for dinner, Adam had arrived late. He tried to make himself presentable as quickly as possible so that he could join them. He had eaten in town he had explained but had no dessert so he sat down and had coffee and pie with his family and their company. Adam was enchanted all over again. He found Sylvia delightful, witty and beautiful—and as the evening progressed and he engaged her in conversation, Sylvia became even more beautiful to him.

When Adam walked Roy Coffee, Miss Polly Matthews and Sylvia out to their buggy, Adam pulled Sylvia back a few steps so they would be alone. "Sylvia, could I come call on you some time?"

"I was hoping you'd ask." She was practically breathless. "Actually, and I know I shouldn't say this as it will make me seem too forward, ever since I saw you through the window of the Confectionary, I hoped I would see you again—and here we are. It's almost fate." She examined his face—his eyes, his mouth, the cleft in his chin—and concluded that he was dashingly handsome and exciting.

"I don't know about fate," Adam said, "but it is lucky-lucky for me." Sylvia had then slipped her arm through his and they continued on to the buggy where Adam helped Sylvia up. And as they drove away, Adam felt a small sense of loss—and the night seemed a shade darker.

Although Adam didn't need his family's encouragement to court Sylvia, they did. Joe, who had initially been interested in Sylvia himself, soon realized that she was a better match for Adam. "She talks about ideas too, just like you, Adam. She's too…what's that word? Oh, yeah, 'cerebral'," Joe had begrudgingly said at dinner the next night when Ben brought up how nice it had been to have women in the house upon occasion "I prefer action over ideas," Joe had added.

"Yeah," Hoss had said, "and we know what kind of action you mean. That Miss Sylvia, she's not that kind of girl."

Adam had grinned at Hoss' remark but every time he heard her name mentioned, when his brothers or his father said "Sylvia," he felt a thrill run through him. She was his secret delight and he never thought that he would be content to just sit on a porch swing and talk to a woman about his dreams and his ideas about the world and abstract concepts such as loyalty and love but he did—with her. And when he would kiss her goodnight, his heart would swell and he felt as if kissing Sylvia was as it should be, as if the yielding of her mouth to him, the compliance of her body against his as he held her was natural—she was the woman for him—he knew it in his blood and his bones.

And now Adam feared he might destroy all his chances at future happiness with Sylvia by confessing his weakness of not just his body, but of his character as well.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Sylvia's was puzzled—and frightened. "What is it, Adam?" Her fear was that Adam was going to tell her goodbye, to say that he was in love with another woman.

"I'll just say it outright." Adam dropped Sylvia's hands and stood up; he felt the need to move so he paced. "I…" he struggled to find the right words. Although he had in a manner rehearsed what he would say on the way over, now the words he had planned seemed stilted and cold. "I have a son I didn't know about. His name is Ezra and he's almost a year old. I'm bringing him home in the next week or so."

He turned to face Sylvia and to his relief, she didn't look as if she hated him, only that she was confused. "Oh. I see. I suppose then that you'll want to marry…" Her voice dropped off and she looked away, her eyes filling with tears; her heart was broken.

Adam had talked marriage before with her and not in the midst of a passionate embrace goodnight as he held her on the porch steps but in the cold light of day. Sylvia was willing, not just willing bur desirous to be his wife as she had told him earlier. "After a decent time has passed, of course, for my family's sake. My mother used to always accuse me of being selfish, of only thinking of myself and I would only be enforcing that if I married too soon—I do want the pleasure of being your wife, Adam. The Stewarts, Philip's parents, felt I should join a convent after he died and if they find out that I've married so soon, well, my parents would suffer for it socially, I'm afraid. I…oh, Adam, I do love you. I…I know this sounds awful, but I love you even more than I had Philip, than I ever loved anyone in my life. Do the dead haunt one, Adam, if they're angry? If I say that I feel stronger for you than I ever did for Philip—ever, is that a sin? I…I often wonder if his death…oh, Adam, had he lived I never would have met you but I suppose I would have been happy. Odd, how our lives veer from the road we planned for ourselves."

"Sylvia, plans are worthless in the long run," he had said at the time as he kissed her eyelids, her smooth cheeks, her silky neck. "Let's not look too far ahead; let's just look for happiness with each other."

And over time their kisses on the front porch became more passionate and when Adam would take Sylvia out on Sunday afternoons, she came close to yielding to him, her body urging her for the ultimate joining as they sat under the trees, her own passions matching his. Nevertheless, they always refrained from taking the ultimate step they would take once they were husband and wife. To his surprise, Adam found he didn't mind waiting as Sylvia was worth it although he once joked to his father that he felt like Abelard—the desire was strong but there was no way to relieve it. And then he had added, except alone.

But Adam found that telling Sylvia about Ezra was difficult. "Sylvia," Adam said as he struggled with how to tell her everything and yet not sound as if he was asking for sympathy, "his mother is dead. She told a friend before she died that I was the father but I have my doubts. Nevertheless, I accept him as mine as it's possible. Let me start at the beginning." Adam stopped pacing and sat down; Sylvia shifted to face him. "It seems that there was a man named Tom Burns who looked like me, resembled me so closely that he found he could pass himself off as me—so he did. He didn't know about me or that he looked like me until he just fell into it and he had need of a horse and money so he took advantage of our resemblance. I was incredulous—couldn't believe it but the neighbor who gave him the horse and the banker who gave him the money, both believe Tom was me. He looked enough like me to fool anyone who wasn't…well, I doubt he would have fooled my family or close friends as I was unable to fool Ann—Ezra's mother. She eventually realized I wasn't Tom but she loved him and since he was gone, well, it becomes confusing in a way."

Sylvia listened intently, hung on every word as Adam related the events that led up to his receiving a telegram telling him that he and Ann had a son together and that Ann was dead.

"And that's why I go to Placerville every few months, to see Ezra and to pay for his keep and now, I'm going to hire someone to go with me to fetch Ezra home. He's old enough to be bottle-fed and as I said, and although it's possible he's not mine, there's a chance he is so I have to do the right thing." He paused while Sylvia sat quietly. "I would understand if you tell me to leave and never come back. I should have told you about Ezra earlier but I was so…I wanted you and was afraid that once you knew...I'm sorry, Sylvia, that I even had to involve you. I suppose I was hoping that things would work out another way but…"

Sylvia sat up straight and set her jaw. "I'd be willing to go with you to bring your son home, Adam. My Aunt Polly will loudly object but that doesn't matter. I'll go with you. When are you leaving?"

"Sylvia, you know you can't. Traveling alone with me? I can't even keep you out after dark unless we're supervised. It's best you stay here. Traveling in a wagon over that rough country…it's not for you. And even if you could go, I couldn't bear seeing you have to endure all those hardships."

"I'm not made of cake, Adam. I can travel as well as anyone and I'm…although I don't enjoy hardship, from what the pastor preaches, hardship and suffering are supposed to bring one closer to God but the only one I want to be closer to is you. Let me go with you, Adam. I'll take care of the child. I'll….cook and rock the child to sleep…I don't care what my Aunt says—or anyone else. And I can't let you face any censure alone, not if I'm to be your wife. I am still to be…you still want me, don't you?"

Adam rose from the settee and looking down, he held Sylvia's face in both his hands. She reached up and put her hands over his and his heart swelled with love for her. He believed he had never seen anyone as lovely as Sylvia and knew he was lucky that she hadn't shown him the door and told him to never return. He knew that he had underestimated Sylvia—she was more steely and stronger than he had believed.

"Yes, I still want to marry you-nothing could change that. But I can't take you along because I love you. I've hired a girl who worked for Pastor Cleary and his wife—took care of his wife while she was ill. She's going to be Ezra's nurse, so to speak."

"I see," Sylvia stood up and Adam's hands dropped away. "Well, if you'd rather take another woman…"

"Fiona Flanagan is hardly a woman. She's an Irish immigrant, merely a girl, who came over as a bond servant and worked it off. She's used to hardship and she's accepted the job. She needs the job to live."

Sylvia offered a weak smile. "Forgive my pangs of jealousy, Adam, it's just that…I should know better. I don't seem to have much faith in you, do I? That's a fine way for me to show my love for you. I'm sorry for that."

"Sylvia…I'm not as wonderful as you think. I have weaknesses of the flesh like all men and although you're the only woman I want to marry, the only one I want to share my future with, there have been other women, women who…"

"Adam," she said putting her hand on his arm, "you can confess all your sins later…after we're married. Part of the reason I love you is because you're a man with passions and needs that I want to fulfill. Hopefully though, you'll choose me and only me to go through life with you."

"Yes," Adam managed to say; her words, her intimations of promises of pleasure made his voice thick with desire. He took Sylvia in his arms and kissed her and she responded with more passion than he had ever experienced before and it was all he could do not to pull her down on the settee and enjoy her. He felt she would be willing—tonight Sylvia would be willing to give him her body so that he would want to return quickly to her. But he didn't take advantage of the situation as he felt that's what he would be doing—taking advantage of her, over his beloved Sylvia. So instead, he swore to her his undying love and told her that he would return to her arms and then they would discuss becoming a family—him, her and Ezra.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Ben Cartwright was always polite to the guests in his home and so when Adam finally delivered Fiona Flanagan to the Ponderosa, he was gracious. Despite what any of the Cartwrights may have thought, Fiona wasn't intimidated by the four of them and they found themselves a bit cowed under by the young slip of a girl with the fiery hair. She had no qualms about stating what she believed or thought about anything and insisted that they call her Fiona as, she said, "I am an employee, despite the courteous way in which you be treatin' me so don't be callin' me Miss Flanagan—Fiona is fine for the likes o' me"

As they sat at dinner having served themselves from the food Hop Sing had put out, Fiona cleared her throat as Hoss put knife and fork to the three thick slices of ham over which he had poured maple syrup. Hoss looked across the table to her.

"And is there no one to say grace before you start to eat?" Fiona said as she looked around at the men who looked back at her with expressions of surprise.

"Well…" Ben said. He smiled, duly chastised. "It would please us if you would you say grace, Fiona?"

Fiona bowed her head and Hoss quietly placed his knife and fork on the edge of his plate and dropped his head along with the rest of his family.

"Bless, O lord, this food to our use, even though it is prepared by the hands of a pagan and heathen who through his ignorance does not accept the mercies of the Virgin Mary…" Adam cleared his throat and raised his head. Fiona looked sideways at him. Adam had given her a little talking-to on the way over from the parsonage and iterated that she was to treat Hop Sing with the greatest respect—on the Ponderosa, he had told her, his family not only practiced tolerance but acceptance. Fiona, closed her eyes again and continued, "and us to thy loving service. May we use the food to nourish our bodies and Thee to nourish our souls, and may we always be mindful of the needs of others. For Jesus' sake, Amen."

Hoss eagerly began to eat but both Joe and Ben looked at Adam. He subtly shook his head and began to eat.

"So, Fiona," Ben said, "how long have you been in Virginia City?"

"Only a few months, sir. When I come to town I went to the church and found the pastor. My mother always told me that if I ever needed help to go see the Father but you don't have one in this area so I figured that even Protestants are charitable." Adam suppressed a grin; his father looked a bit amazed and discomfited by Fiona's response. "Pastor Cleary is a good man and he allowed me to scrub the rectory's floor and to polish the pews and I was able to sleep in a cot on the back and have my meals at his table. Then when his wife took ill, I was hired to take care of Mrs. Cleary and the house. I'm not a bad cook and can make potatoes in so many ways you wouldn't recognize it as the same creature."

Joe and Hoss looked at one another and smiled, tongue in cheek.

"Well, that's interesting," Ben said. "Did your family immigrate to this country?"

"No, sir," Fiona said after she swallowed a bite of food. "Just me and my brother, Darby. He and I came over in steerage with the most foul-smelling, foul-mouthed group of Irishmen I would ever hope to never meet again—Ireland is far better without them and they are the bane of any country they enter, to be sure. I was twelve and me brother was fourteen and we came over as bondservants. Darby went out to a family what needed a strong back to help work a coal mine and I worked as a maid for a wealthy family. I finally paid off my passage after five years as we had agreed, but the Mister, he said that I hadn't and that I had no rights yet in this country and then he tried to kiss me. I left that night, packed up the things I've brought with me here, stole rides on trains and begged rides on the road that brought me out west. I then worked for the pastor and now for Mister Adam."

Fiona went back to her food. Adam was impressed by the factual way Fiona told the story of her short life; it was devoid of self-pity, something Adam admired.

When Adam had fetched Fiona from the Cleary's, she had one carpetbag with her.

"Is that it? Is that everything you have?"

"Aye, sir. And what did you expect?" Fiona was curious—not defensive.

"Well, I thought you'd have at least a trunk full of dresses and hats and…" Adam suddenly felt foolish.

"I have one hat, sir—this one." Fiona wore a simple cloth bonnet with blue ribbons to tie under her chin. "And one pair of boots, three dresses, some ladies' things and such to my name."

"Yes, well, perhaps…"

"Perhaps what, sir?" Fiona looked at him with her blue eyes and Adam smiled; he couldn't help himself.

"Perhaps you'll accrue more belongings over time." Fiona said nothing and Adam helped her into the buggy he had brought over. And they rode in relative silence as Fiona looked around at the changing scenery. She would occasionally ask a question about a tree or remark on a deer or hawk she saw but when they pulled up into the yard of Ponderosa, Fiona made a sound of admiration.

"You didn't tell me you were rich, sir."

"Oh, didn't I?"

"No, you didn't."

"Would it have mattered?"

"That depends, sir. Have you made your money through the sweat and blood of those who work for you and left them bereft of any savings to help themselves through sickness and old age?"

Adam swung her down, amazed at how light she was. "Yes, in that we have made our made our money through blood, sweat and tears—our own. If you think we sit up on high and watch those who work for us suffer, you're wrong. In our mining interests, we explore the shafts and go down into the tunnels with the men to make sure the men are safe—and no, before you ask, we don't send ponies down into the mines to pull the carts nor do we hire children. It's the same with the hands who work the cattle and brand the calves and go on trial drives. My family and I work alongside them and we don't ask them to do anything we ourselves don't do. Besides, wealth is a matter of perspective. Now, if you have any other objections, Miss Flanagan, I'll hear them now before we go any further."

Fiona was dutifully humbled. "No, sir. I have nothing else to say."

"Well, that's amazing in itself." Adam picked up her carpetbag and led Fiona into the house where his whole family waited and were soon vanquished by Fiona and her armor of scathing honesty.

That night, Adam was looking out the window of his bedroom when there was a knock on his door.

"Come in." Adam turned to see his father walk in and close the door.

"I thought I'd come say goodnight."

"That's all?"

"No." Ben stepped further into the room. "I hope Fiona works out."

"I do too."

"She's certainly a stubborn one. I imagine it'll be an interesting trip."

"Yes. I suppose it will."

"Have you told Sylvia?"

"Yes. I've told her and she was…supportive. She offered to go with me to fetch Ezra instead of my taking Fiona."

"Well, I wouldn't have expected that." Ben stood with his hands in his pockets. "Sylvia is a fine young woman and traveling alone with a man, well…"

"I didn't expect it either. I expected her to toss me out on my ear and swear that she never wanted to see me again—I truly thought Sylvia would behave as any other woman would in her position. I mean I haven't been exactly pure and chaste while I've been courting her. I tried to tell her but she didn't want to hear. She's not like any other woman—at least not yet." Adam paused. "I want to marry her. She loves me, Pa. I believe it even though I'm not sure I'm worth it."

"And you love her?"

"Oh, yes," Adam said. "Yes, I do love her." Adam put out his hands, palms forward, "—and I have been the perfect gentleman as far as she is concerned, just in case you were wondering. In a manner, she and I complement each other. I find I behave better around her, that I want to be a better man for her sake"

"Well, I hope it stays that way and that Sylvia continues…." Ben struggled for the correct words, "in her affections when Ezra arrives in the flesh. I hope she doesn't see him as a physical reminder of…well…" Ben looked down at the ground. "Adam, you're a grown man with needs—I understand that as I often feel…well, no need for me to go into that, and I understand that there can be unforeseen consequences to satisfying appetites. But when there's a child, there's no denying your actions. I hope Sylvia can accept that."

"I hope so too. I don't know if I could bear to lose her at this point." Ben put his hand on Adam's shoulder and gave him a squeeze. Then he turned and walked out leaving Adam alone with his thoughts and his fears that Sylvia might still shun him. After all, he had been with another woman and had even been finding comfort with Cassie. But he had never pressured Sylvia for satisfaction, he told himself, and he was too old to remain chaste and pure. Adam knew he was rationalizing—it's what people did to live with their behavior but he couldn't fool himself. Adam sighed, a long, shuddering sigh and felt chilled. He closed the window and stood looking at the white sliver in the night sky that was the waxing moon and thought of Shakespeare's words, the ones Juliet spoke to Romeo as he sought for a way to swear his love:

"O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb lest that thy love prove likewise variable."

i Oh, Sylvia—stay constant and I promise I will. I swear it! /i


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The trip to Placerville took three days. Adam had rented a covered wagon from one of the nearby homesteaders, Max Brooklyn, who still had the wagon in which he and his family had ridden from eastern New York, across the mountain ranges and plains to reach Virginia City.

"Now you can buy it off me if you like," Max said as he showed it to Adam. "I got no more use for it—I'm here to stay. The bonnet's folded up and in the barn but except for some minor damage, it's in good shape."

Adam had walked around it, checking out any wood damage and he climbed under the wagon to see the condition of the axles and the inside of the wheels. He also checked the tongue and the yoke. "Is the Yankee bed still watertight?"

"Was the last time we crossed a river. You planning on crossing any deep water, Mr. Cartwright? Thought you were only traveling to Placerville."

"No, not really, but you never know. It's warming up and the ice will be melting quickly turning creeks into rivers. You never know." Adam walked around the wagon one more time, thumping the sides. "You still have the water barrel?"

"Yup, and the jockey box too. You taking any chickens along with you?"

"No, just a milk goat." Adam opened and closed the tailgate.

"A milk goat? Why not a cow?"

"I was told to get a milk goat so that's what I did." Adam faced Max. "I don't care to buy the wagon—I only need it for about two weeks so how much to use it?"

"Now, I don't know," Max said, stroking his chin. He had become familiar with the Cartwrights within three days of settling on his small piece of property. The first time Max Brooklyn was in town, he asked in the Bucket of Blood who owned the vast acreage near his property as a young cowboy—and a pretty one at that—riding on a paint pony had warned him to desist cutting the trees he was going to use for the building of his house. A man at the bar said that "cowboy" was Joe Cartwright—one of "The Cartwrights," the family that owned the acreage of pines and almost half the state of Nevada—or so it seemed. "Who are they," he had naively asked. The question was met with laughter by many of the patrons and then he had been informed. "Who are they? A family you don't wanna cross." Now, Max had the chance to set a price for one of the wealthy Cartwrights, a good price for the wagon and he was afraid of asking too much—or too little.

"Well do you want to pay by the day? You can hurry the trip and pay less that way."

"All right—by the day. How much?" Adam faced Max and the other man shifted, trying to appear confident.

Max began to sweat. "Well, it's in good shape, the wagon is and you'll be taking it over some rough territory, putting a lot of wear and tear on it…"

"You said you won't be using it again so the wear and tear is negligible."

"Now I might want to sell it and iffen you break it down…"

"How much do you want, Mr. Brooklyn?" Adam was impatient to start with and now he became annoyed. He knew that Max Brooklyn was considering how much money he could squeeze from him.

"Um…half dollar a day?" Max stated it as a question, expecting Adam Cartwright to become angry and then counteroffer at less.

"How about this—two bits a day for the first five days and a dollar a day after that?" Adam waited. He could see that Max was struggling trying to calculate if he would make more money with Adam's proposition or less; Adam Cartwright was a conniving individual when it came to business dealings and contracts so Max decided that since Adam Cartwright kept the books for the Ponderosa and had a head for numbers, he was probably stacking the odds in his favor.

"Um…no, Adam, I say half dollar a day and that's it. Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it then seeing as how Ambrose doesn't have one at the livery to rent. I guess you have me over a barrel." Adam put out his hand. "Deal?"

Max grinned and shook Adam's hand. "Deal." It wasn't until later that afternoon, after he had helped Adam put on the bonnet and hitch up the two horses Adam had brought over, that Max West told the story of his bargain to his wife and she explained that he was "a dang stupid fool. Even when you think you're getting the best in a deal, you get cheated by an honest man."

"What do you mean, woman? I made a good deal?" He sat at the table waiting for her to put food in front of him and their three children.

She slammed a bowl of stew down in front of him. "What if the wagon breaks down seeing as that it's probable or the weather turns and he has to stop and wait it out? And it takes Cartwright what? Two weeks? Or if nothing happens and it takes him 8 days. You're only getting fifty cents a day—4 dollars. If you'd gone with his deal, you'd make a whole quarter more."

"But Adam Cartwright wouldn't propose a deal where he'd come out with the short end." Max was puzzled and he tried to add numbers in his head but became confused and because he was confused, he became angry and since his wife was nearby, he became angry with her, "Just shut your mouth, woman. Serve the food and shut your mouth. I know what I'm doing." But with each bite of chicken stew he became angrier. i Those goddamn Cartwrights—always winning—always. /i

The wagon served its intended purpose, for Adam and Fiona to arrive at Placerville and fetch Ezra. When they arrived at Cassie's small, neat house after picking up the feeding bottles in town as they had passed through, Mamie came running out, smiling at Adam but yet remaining shy. When Cassie stepped out holding Ezra on her hip, Mamie ran back to Cassie and hid behind her skirts but flirtatiously peeked out at Adam.

Adam lifted Fiona down and then opened the jockey box and pulled out a rag doll. "Mamie," he said kneeling down at the bottom of the porch steps. "Look what I have for you? You want her?"

Mamie looked up at her mother and Cassie nodded and said, "Go ahead and get your baby." Mamie ran off the porch and shyly took the proffered doll and then rushed back to her mother, holding the doll next to her and hugging it.

"I see you're really going to take Ezra back," Cassie said watching Fiona. "I wasn't so certain but I packed his gowns and such. I have no feeding bottles—you brought some I assume."

"Yes," Adam said. "Cassie, this is Fiona. She's going to help me with him."

Cassie appraised Fiona and made a scoffing noise. "This is who you've chosen—a child?"

Fiona started to speak but Adam hushed her. "She'll be fine, Cassie. I have a milk goat in the wagon. Can she go in the back yard?"

Cassie agreed and Adam lifted out the goat which cried out in its harsh voice and tried to buck and kick its way out of Adam's arms. Initially, Adam had tried tying it to the back of the wagon for the journey but the goat couldn't seem to walk as fast as the horses so it was just better to tie it up in the wagon during the day, stake it out at night close to the wagon so the wolves and cougars wouldn't get it and not feed it or water it during the day while they traveled. Nevertheless, every night, Fiona had to clean out the wagon to rid it of the smell of the goat and its urine before she bed down for the night. Adam slept under the wagon, his rifle and six-shooter his bedmates.

"It won't do for the child, for Ezra," Fiona had told Adam one evening after she had scrubbed the floor of the wagon. "I won't be able to do both—watch the child, feed him and then clean up after the goat. I say you should trade her for a nice milk cow. We could tie 'er on the back and not be bothered."

"Cassie, the woman who's nursing him, she said that goat's milk is better for babies than cow's milk so I bought the goat."

"Oh, faddle," Fiona said as she took the plate of beans and bacon he offered her. "A year old child can take cow's milk just fine. Besides, I myself never cared too much for goats—evil animals, they are, always lookin' for a way to cause mischief and eatin' whatever they can find. What other kind of animal does that? None. It's no coincidence that pictures of the devil often cast him with the face of a goat and the cloven hooves."

'That just happens to be an ignorant reference to satyrs of Greek mythology. They were characterized as having great appetites for both drink and…"Adam wondered how to put it delicately…"women. And actually, Satan was once the most beautiful angel in heaven. His name, Lucifer, means 'Light-bearer' or 'Morning Star'."

"Now what's this you're tellin' me? What child's story is this that I'm to believe?" Fiona's brow furrowed.

"Satan was a fallen angel, correct?" Adam was beginning to enjoy this conversation with Fiona. For once she wasn't so damnably self-assured in her viewpoint.

"Well…yes."

"In heaven he was beautiful and then, once he was thrown from heaven, he became as horrid as he had once been beautiful. Satan is the antithesis of Lucifer." Adam took a forkful of beans and waited while Fiona considered what he had said.

"I think you're just havin' a bit of fun with me, Mr. Cartwright. You think I'm an ignorant girl but I learned the lessons of my faith well. I attended church every week, even if I had to drag my little brothers and sisters with me, and I went to confession regularly. In case you haven't noticed, I say my rosary every night. I love the Virgin Mary."

"Yes, I'm sure you do, Fiona. Far be it from me to try to say that your learning was wrong; it wasn't. It was just limited." Adam continued to eat and refilled his coffee cup.

"Mr. Cartwright, if the name Lucifer means…what you said it did, is there a meaning to Satan? Does the name mean anything special?"

"Yes. Adversary. In Greek, he's called Diabolos—the slanderer because he tells lies about the benefits of evil and slanders God. The Mexicans call him Diablo." He waited knowing that Fiona wasn't quite finished with asking questions. She had an eager mind and Adam admired that.

"You've given me much to think on, Mr. Cartwright. But I do have to say that it does seem a bit of vindication to know that so many are aware of the evils of temptation." She paused for a moment. "Let me ask you, Mr. Cartwright—are you one to believe in the consequences of evil?"

"I believe in the consequences of one's actions. The only problem is that no man knows what consequences will follow. The only thing that man can do with his limited knowledge is attempt to predict consequences for his actions and act accordingly. But the fact that we're traveling to pick up a son I never predicted, well, it just shows how fallible humans are. More beans?" Adam put down his plate and scraped the fry pan to serve himself.

"No, sir. I think not." Fiona stood up and Adam looked up at her. "I think I'll clean the plates and pans and then prepare my bed."

Adam nodded and glanced at Fiona as she went about her self-proclaimed duties. It was a waxing moon and he looked up into the sky; the stars were always brighter when the moon hid away. i The same moon I looked at the last time I saw Sylvia, /i The wolves were beginning to howl. Adam sighed as he held another fork-full of beans. He was weary and tomorrow they would be in Placerville and then he knew his worries would really begin.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Cassie didn't take to Fiona. "She's a bossy thing and thinks she knows all there is to raising children just because she wiped the snotty noses and cleaned the shitty bottoms of her younger brothers and sisters," Cassie told Adam as he sat and ate the dinner Cassie had fixed for them. She sat opposite him eating and nursing Ezra who greedily sucked. Fiona had eaten earlier with Mamie who had taken a liking to her. Then Cassie told Fiona to give Ezra a bath and dress him for the night. Ezra had complained mightily about the bath until Fiona showed him how to fill a cup with water and pour it out. So Ezra repeatedly did so, thinking himself clever as he laughed and splashed.

"She'll do fine," Adam said. He ate heartily of the chicken stew and dumplings; he was relieved to have something other than beans and bacon. "Ezra seems to take to her. Even Mamie likes her."

"Well, I s'pose. After all, he's not going to be my concern much longer, is he? I've come to love him though. He's a bright child, sharp of mind and eye and a loving child. He misses nothin' and already says a few words—well, close to the words 'though he mostly points and grunts. You'll need to watch your mouth around him," Cassie said pointing her fork at Adam. "You let fly some curse words and I guarantee you that Ezra will soon be cussing like a sailor who's had too much rum and fallen off a whore."

Adam chuckled. He was about to publicly take credit as the father of the boy to everyone in Virginia City, but then he wondered about himself. He was feeling proud of the child, proud of Ezra for his intelligence and quickness and the child more than likely wasn't even his—at least to his mind and the obvious facts. Then Adam wondered if Tom Burns had been intelligent. He had been quick enough to take advantage of the confused identities of himself and Adam but then any con man would do that even if they weren't very bright. Adam wondered how Tom would react to the knowledge of a child if he were alive and been informed by Ann. Would Tom have denied it? Accused Ann of being a cheap barmaid or would he have taken the child and raised him with his wife if they had remained together or would he have sought a divorce and married Ann? Adam wondered if he and Tom had more in common than just their outward appearance-and Ann.

Adam smiled at the noises Ezra made as he sucked away at Cassie's teat, patting her full breast with one hand. "Gluttonous little thing, isn't he?"

Cassie laughed and looked down at the child. "Hungry from the day he was born and growin' faster than a weed in cow dung. And beautiful as an angel." Cassie pushed back some of the dark curls from his face. Adam's being surged with pride—a good, strong, handsome son—he had fathered quite a boy.

After the heavy dinner Cassie had prepared, Adam sat at the table with the partially stacked dirty dishes and drank his coffee while Cassie put Mamie and Ezra to bed. Fiona was to sleep in the same room with Mamie and Cassie gave her an extra pillow from her own bed.

Fiona stood silently by while Cassie gave her advice and direction. "Mamie doesn't wet the bed much so she should stay dry but if I were you, I'd wake her up in the middle of the night and sit her on the pot. Just to be certain," Cassie warned Fiona, "and as for Ezra, well, sometimes he sleeps through the night and others he doesn't; I've yet to find a rhyme or reason to it." Cassie bent over Mamie who was already in bed and kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, my little chicken," Cassie said to Mamie and then walked out and shut the door.

Mamie curled up under the covers. "Do you not say your prayers, child? You need to speak to the Lord through the Virgin Mary." Mamie just looked at her with sleepy eyes and she popped her thumb in her mouth. "Have you no learnin' in the ways of heaven?" Mamie just looked at Fiona. "Come, Mamie. Come kneel by me."

Fiona kneeled at the side of the bed and Mamie scrambled down to imitate her, being so small that her elbows couldn't rest on the mattress as Fiona's did. Fiona felt guilty for not having said her rosary that evening but knew that it would be too long for Mamie to endure. She remembered that as a child she could barely keep awake during the droning prayers her mother emotionlessly recited but as she grew, she began to love the ritualistic prayer more and more. Nevertheless, tonight it wouldn't do but Fiona sitll twined the rosary through her fingers before she clasped them in prayer.

Mamie looked up at Fiona. "Close your eyes, Mamie, and I'll say a prayer for all of us—for you and me and baby Ezra, your mother and Mr. Cartwright." Mamie squeezed her eyes shut while Fiona began in her still-girlish voice the short bedtime prayer her mother had taught her and her older brother, Darby, and which she had taught to her younger siblings:

"Watch, dear Lord, with those who wake or watch or weep tonight, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend your sick ones, O Lord Jesus Christ, rest your weary ones, bless your dyin' ones, soothe your sufferin' ones, shield your joyous ones, and all for your love's sake. Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost. As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen." Fiona waited a moment and then said, "Say 'amen', Mamie. That means the prayer is at an end."

Mamie, her eyes still pressed shut, said, "Amen." She then looked up at Fiona.

"Let's get to bed now." Fiona helped Mamie into the small bed but before Fiona tucked her in, she looked over at Mamie who held the rag doll Adam had brought her, in a tight embrace and had stuck her thumb in her rosy mouth again. "Do you need to use the pot, child?" Mamie shook her head and then Fiona pulled the covers up around them both and Mamie snuggled next to her and soon, both were asleep.

"Come to bed, Adam," Cassie said. She had walked into the kitchen to check the stove and to place the stacked dishes in the sink remarking that she would wash them in the morning.

"I'll sleep on the settee tonight, Cassie." He carried his cup and saucer to the dry sink and placed them on the other dishes.

"Why all of a sudden you're sleeping out there? Is it the girl? Don't tell me you're afraid what she'll think? What's she to you except someone to take care of Ezra?"

"No, it's not because of her although I'm pretty sure what she would think but I…well, there's someone back in Virginia City who I want to marry, who I love—I've made up my mind and we've talked about it. I don't think I could face her if I…"

"She's back in Virginia City, Adam—she'll never find out. Sides, we always have a nice time, don't we? And it's not like it wasn't just a few weeks ago that we had a time together." Cassie put her arms around Adam's neck as he stood at the sink and her full breasts flattened somewhat against his chest.

Adam reached up and held Cassie's arms for a moment and then gently moved them from around his neck. He sighed. "It doesn't matter that she would never know. I gave in to convenience and lust—you are a sweet one, Cassie, and most talented but I owe her something."

"But you ain't yet married. C'mon, Adam. Think about how much you enjoy it and I don't ask nothin' from you, do I?"

"No, Cassie you don't." Adam stepped away slightly. He was close to giving in to convenience and his atavistic urges.

"And you won't be comin' back after tomorrow. C'mon." Cassie smiled at him and Adam was sorely tempted. But then he thought again of Sylvia.

"You know what, I think I'll sleep in the wagon instead of the settee. Good night, Cassie." Adam kissed her on the forehead.

Cassie didn't know what to say as Adam walked out the door to the wagon that was parked in front of the house on the dirt road, so she said nothing and went to her bed alone. She punched the pillow before she lay her head on it. She had been looking forward to Adam's visit, had thought of it with anticipation as he always gave her a grand time but she had a feeling as soon as he had walked into the small house that day that something had radically changed. She had put it down to Fiona, that the girl made Adam feel guilty about his carnality but it wasn't Fiona; she was merely an employee to Adam; Cassie could see that clearly now. It had to be the woman in Virginia City and Cassie felt a surge of jealousy for a woman she had never seen and would never meet. Cassie wondered what that woman was like, if she was beautiful and genteel. Adam Cartwright would never be happy with a woman like that, Cassie thought. He needed a woman who enjoyed a good romp on the mattress, not some snooty society matron. She sighed as she tossed on the bed. He would be sorry and he'd miss her; she tried to comfort herself with that thought. One night he'd be laying with his wife, Cassie thought, and he'd think of her and regret this night that he passed up and chose instead to sleep outside in a wagon.

Adam made himself as comfortable as he could on the pallet on which Fiona usually slept. i What the hell am I doing here when I could be tussling with Cassie and burying my face between her breasts? Sylvia, I hope you know how much I love you that I'm sleeping alone in the bed of a wagon that smells a like a damn goat and is harder than the ground. /i He rolled over on his side and eventually fell asleep only to wake in the morning with a stiff back and a sore neck and Fiona calling out to him that breakfast was ready and it was time to get up


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Ezra eagerly sucked on the nipple while Fiona cooed to him as she held both him and the bottle. Ezra firmly clasped the bottle as well, raising his bare feet and bending his knees as if he was trying to hold the bottle with them as well.

"Oooh," Fiona said to the child, "you're a masterful one, aren't you? Tryin' already to take the bottle away from me so you can have control. Don't you worry, wee one, I'm not going to take it away; drink as much as you like."

Cassie looked on disapprovingly. She had lost the goat milk vs cow milk argument and this was Ezra's second bottle of cow's milk that morning and he was doing fine. Adam had paid Cassie double what the cow was worth and also gave her the goat that Fiona had named Tulip. "Every creature deserves a name," Fiona had said. "And maybe a sweet name will fool our noses into thinkin' she smells less like a goat and more like a flower. I saw a tulip once and what a pretty flower it was indeed."

The trade-off of the goat for the cow annoyed Cassie although she had come off monetarily ahead. But her pride had been hurt; she counted herself as knowledgeable about children and men but then she had been proven wrong on both counts and it bothered her. Since Cassie already was jealous of Fiona and how Ezra had so quickly taken to the young woman and had been disappointed with Adam's choice of sleeping arrangements, she was in a foul mood. "Bottle-feeding makes 'em lazy. You watch that he doesn't drink so fast that he makes himself sick and it all comes up again." She turned to Adam who was stirring a spoonful of sorghum into his coffee while he watched Fiona feed Ezra across from him. "You should've left him here another year, Adam. Then he'd not only be walkin' and talkin' but he'd be able to eat the same food as you and you wouldn't need some upstart girl to try to take care of him."

"Who're you callin' an upstart girl? I'll have you know that I can take care of a wee one better'n most and certainly better'n you. Doesn't he have a bit of a rash from being in a wet nappy too long? I put a bit o' cornstarch on his bottom side this change and that'll take care of it fine enough but he never should've got the rash in the first place!"

"All babies get a rash on occasion and remember your place! This is my home and I am the lady of the house..." Cassie was furious.

"Oh, lady indeed," Fiona said, turning her attention back to Ezra. "Just because you're a woman, it don't make you a lady. No lady walks around with her wrapper hangin' open and her teats fallin' out, trollin' for the man in the room."

"Teats is it? Trolling?" Cassie closed her wrapper as she lit into Fiona. "How would you know what teats are since you don't seem to have any? You got to feed the child from a bottle because you're the most flat-chested girl I've ever had the misfortune to meet—the only thing big about you is your saucy arrogance! You couldn't nurse a child or fill the mouth of an eager man with the little bit you've got—that is if any man would ever want you!"

Adam, who was trying to eat his breakfast of side pork and eggs, felt his stomach knot. The argument between the two women was becoming more strident and even Ezra began to twist in Fiona's arms, becoming upset. Adam remembered his father saying that more than one woman in the house always caused trouble. "A house can only be one woman's—and she is the one in charge. If the other woman doesn't kow-tow, well, then someone has to go. It's a bit like a wolf pack." Adam had laughed at the comparison but he felt now that it was true. Adam wondered which she-wolf would end up with her throat ripped out if Cassie and Fiona were together much longer.

"Adam, get this Irish trash out of my house!" Cassie yelled as she motioned with her arm toward the door.

"Irish trash, is it?" Fiona said, her eyes narrowing in anger.

"Enough!" Adam said, slamming his fist down on the table. Ezra jumped in Fiona's arms and began to wail, the nipple falling from his lips. Adam realized that he had behaved just like his father, slamming his fist down on the table to get the attention of the others and making his point with added emphasis.

"Well, I hope you're happy with yourself," Cassie said. "Now you've made Ezra cry."

Fiona stood up, shushing Ezra and bouncing him slightly in her arms, she turned to Adam. "You're going to have to curb that lordly temper of yours, Mr. Cartwright, when you're around the babe. See how you've upset him." Fiona whisked Ezra out of the kitchen, calming him with soft murmurs. Cassie followed Fiona out of the kitchen and Adam stared after them, his jaw set.

"Damn women," he said as he poured himself another cup of coffee. The sooner he, Fiona and Ezra left, the better, he decided. He had already paid Cassie for a whole month even though she had only taken care of Ezra for less than two weeks this round but he wanted to show his appreciation. He promised to repair a loose board in the cowshed and he decided he would do that immediately while Fiona packed Ezra's few items and then they would leave for the Ponderosa. Adam wondered though if he was going from the metaphorical frying pan into the fire. He would have to deal with his family and although Sylvia had seemed to be forgiving and accepting of Ezra, things could change at any time and he feared that her Aunt Polly would work on her as he was sure the older woman would disapprove. _And why shouldn't she disapprove? I want to marry her beloved niece and make her the mother of my bastard child. Ezra will be a visible sign of my indiscretion, the result of one afternoon's attempt to crush the boredom of waiting. The child will be a constant reminder. _

Adam looked at the uneaten food on his plate. His appetite had left him so he scraped the food into the chipped enamel pan in which Cassie put eggshells and vegetable peelings as well as trimmed fat from cuts of meat for the few pigs she kept at the far corner of the yard. She had only a sow and a few piglets but Adam had told her how to keep them clean and healthy on his last visit when she had shown him the animals. "Luke will have to clean their pen," Cassie had said at the time and Adam thought of how the house and just about everything in it had been given to Cassie just because she had been a friend of Ann's and had taken care of his by-blow. Luke would more than likely slide into his place taking care of the house and permanently into Cassie's bed.

Adam Stood and placed the dishes in the sink and went out back to repair the cowshed so that "Tulip" would have a safe and secure home—and he could with a clear conscience leave Placerville to return to the Ponderosa and whatever waited for him there.

"And can you not knock?" Fiona asked as she was packing Ezra's items. Mamie was sitting on the made bed and playing with Ezra who giggled whenever Mamie placed her new doll on Ezra's chest.

"I don't knock in my own house," Cassie said. "I've just come to make certain you've everything and…to give you a word of warning."

Fiona faced her expecting some threat of bodily injury if she didn't speak more respectfully to "the lady of the house." "A warnin' about what? Because I could give you a warnin' about eternal hellfire and damnation for one such as you." Fiona expected to be slapped—almost welcomed it as then she could defend herself. She had great dislike for Cassie and being young, she wasn't clear about why; she wasn't yet sophisticated enough to analyze her feelings.

"He's a handsome man and knows his way around a woman—if you get my drift." Cassie paused but Fiona looked confused. "I'm talking about Adam Cartwright. Don't fall in love with him—it's easy enough to do, I know that. But I'm warning you—he'll steal your heart with his smile and his voice and that won't even be his intention. I think he doesn't even realize that his voice alone makes a woman warm. You need to know this as I think you're already captured by him." And Cassie waited.

Fiona finally spoke. "You can save your words. I'm Irish and I've been fed blarney me whole life. Mr. Cartwright is my employer and that's all there is to it."

Cassie chuckled. "You're a foolish girl—do you think I can't see your eyes whenever you look at him? I imagine I look the same way." Cassie's voice dropped and she stepped closer. "But I know what he can do with his hands and his tongue to please a woman—you just imagine it don't you?"

Fiona turned her back. "I have to finish packing." Fiona heard Cassie walk out and then she sat heavily on the bed and watched the children playing. She tried to control her breath; it was as if Cassie knew her secret thoughts about Adam Cartwright and then Fiona understood exactly why she disliked Cassie so much—Cassie had known Adam.

The return trip, albeit shorter because he stepped up the two horses to make faster time, was miserable as far as Adam was concerned. Ezra fussed when Fiona sat on the block with him even if she tried to feed him. The child stretched and arched his back and tried to wriggle out of her arms so Adam was relieved when Fiona and Ezra stayed in the back of the wagon. In there, Ezra crawled around and managed to turn over just about everything to try to explore the small area. When he fussed, Fiona tried to placate him by making toys out of some of the items she found. He gave him a spoke from an old wagon wheel and he pounded on the wood floor of the wagon with it making a satisfying noise. And as far as Adam was concerned, Ezra was always either wet or had full diapers—both unpleasant. He realized that babies weren't necessarily cute and cuddly and the smells of urine and the infant sounds of babbling and wailing took him back to when Hoss was born and he had to sleep in the wagon with Inger and Hoss. The best times, as far as Adam was concerned, were when Ezra napped; a sense of serenity and relief fell over the whole wagon then. Fiona usually came out and sat beside Adam until Ezra awoke.

"He's quite a busy one—always lookin' for some mischief," Fiona said trying to make the best of the situation when Adam remarked the second day out that she looked weary. "He's an inquisitive one—into everything. He turned the milk pail over and the cap came off. I managed to right it before it all spilled out. I can't take my eyes off him for a moment and he hates to sleep. I suppose he's afraid he's going to miss something—he fights it."

"Maybe you should sleep a bit before he's up and around again," Adam suggested.

"I think I will, sir. I think I will." Fiona had then crawled into the back and Adam enjoyed the peace knowing that he was the only one awake and that he could enjoy his thoughts and the beauty of the spring day before they stopped to eat the evening meal.

Dinner was pan bread and beans. For Ezra, it was a bottle of cow's milk. The horses and the cow were staked nearby, grazing in the patchy grass. "I think that Ezra should be fed a bit of cereal each night," Fiona said, holding Ezra on her lap while she ate and he held his own bottle. "It would help him sleep better and I fear he's not gettin' enough nourishment from milk alone. This one's always hungry and he reaches out for the bottle before I have it filled even."

"Maybe we should just let him suck straight from the cow's udder," Adam said. He was weary as well. Nights he slept fitfully, waking at every sound. His fear was that the cow would be killed by a cougar or dragged down by wolves so he woke at every sound, his hand going to his rifle. Then the cow would begin to low early in the morning to be milked and that woke him. Half the milk had to be poured out because otherwise it would just be wasted.

Adam had meant to be droll with his remark about the udders but Fiona giggled. It made Adam remember that she was just a young girl, after all.

"Do you think you'll want children of your own one day?" Adam asked her.

"Oh, I'm sure I will," she said as she looked down at Ezra as he greedily sucked on the artificial nipple. "But first I need a husband." She looked up suddenly, blushing. "I didn't mean to make no slight on the child's mother, Mr. Cartwright…I…"

"It's all right. Things are as they are and there's no use in pretending. Besides, I prefer honesty over anything else." He put down his empty plate and poured himself coffee. Fiona preferred a cup of milk.

"Then will you answer me when I ask if you plan to marry anyone in particular, Mr. Cartwright? Ezra's a lovely boy and I would hope that if you marry, the lady would love him as her own. Women are strange about things such as that."

"I hope to make a certain lady my wife and hopefully she'll love him." Adam hadn't told Fiona that Ezra may not even be his child but of no blood to him at all. She didn't need to know as far as he was concerned. It was enough that his family knew—and Sylvia. Adam wondered if she had changed her mind since he had left, if she had time to think on it and decide that she wanted nothing to do with him and his bastard—if Ezra was even his. Adam wasn't aware that Cassie had already told Fiona—unintentionally let it slip—that he may not be Ezra's father.

"_Why the child couldn't look more like him," Fiona had said when Cassie had made the remark about Adam stepping up to take responsibility. Fiona had noticed the first time she had seen Ezra how much he resembled Adam in coloring. _

_Cassie realized she couldn't deny what she had said. "Well, the other man who could be the father looked very much the same—he and Mr. Cartwright could have been twin brothers."_

Ezra finished his bottle and Fiona gently cooed to him as he rubbed his eyes with his fists, fighting the drowsiness that began to overwhelm him. He cried intermittently and moved about, kicking the blanket off of himself. Fiona began to sing to him. Adam had heard her hum to him before but now she sang a song that he had never heard, a lullaby of sorts.

"Over in Killarney, many years ago  
>My mother sang a song to me<br>in tones so sweet and low  
>Just a simple little ditty<br>in her good old Irish way  
>And I'd give the world if she could sing<br>that song to me this day

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,  
>Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry!<br>Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,  
>Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby…"<p>

The raw emotion of the song grabbed him by the throat. The song prompted a surprisingly overwhelming urge for Sylvia, for the sweetness of her face and the music of her voice and the warmth of her arms. Adam wanted to rest his head against her breasts and hear Sylvia croon to him and stroke his hair and whisper how she loved him; he wanted to cry. He stood and walked over to the horses under the pretense of checking their hooves and his heart ached for Sylvia. Would she still want him and what would he do if she didn't? What if she rejected him? _Stop it, boy! You're buying problems that haven't yet happened. Just wait. Sylvia loves you—at least she did when you left and there's no cause to believe she's changed._

Fiona took the sleeping Ezra inside the wagon and when she came back out to clean the dishes, Adam stopped her.

"You get to sleep. I'll clean up," he said.

"Oh, no, sir. I'll do the washin' up." But Adam insisted and Fiona finally agreed and when he was alone, Adam sighed as he went about the chore. It was a full moon and when all was quiet except for the distant howl of a wolf upon occasion, he looked up at what was now a glowing orb and thought again of Sylvia. He wondered if she was looking at the moon as well and thinking of him but he laughed at himself. That was something for poetry, two distant lovers being joined by their mutual admiration of the moon. And he soon crawled into his bedroll and fell asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Ben Cartwright sat in his big, red chair strategically placed by the fire and held Ezra—his grandson. Ben had referred to the child as such when Fiona, holding the child in her arms, was lifted down from the wagon by a weary Adam.

"Let me have my grandson, girl," Ben had said, eagerly putting out his arms.

"He's been sleepin', sir, so he's mite to be a bit fussy." She was loath to hand over the infant as she had become fond of him and feared that he would be afraid of being handed over to a stranger. Ezra was a charming child whom she had grown to love deeply and he was as handsome as his father and as far as Fiona was concerned, Adam Cartwright was his father.

"Let me see 'im, Pa," Hoss said as he father walked to stand under the porch light; it was already dark. Hoss moved to his father's elbow and pulled back the blanket.

"Me too, Pa," Joe said, crowding around on the other side.

"Now don't be makin' him afeared. It took about two days for him to become comfortable with me and he's not yet used to men and their rough ways and loud voices."

And as Fiona had predicted, Ezra, once he woke and opened his eyes and saw all the unknown faces staring at him, bellowed. Ben laughed and remarked that he was a Cartwright for certain as he could bellow as loudly as his Great-Grandfather Stoddard.

"Now don't you go blamin' him for Ezra's lung power," Hoss said. "I've heard the rafters shake from your yellin'. You got a pretty good set of lungs yourself, Pa."

Ben laughed and looked at Hoss and Joe who were both grinning. Hoss put a finger out and touched one of Ezra's flailing fists and Ezra caught it and held on.

"Dang, he's strong as a mule! I ain't never goin' to get my finger back." Hoss said to everyone's laughter but Hoss was secretly proud of his nephew. He would make a formidable man when he was of age and Hoss looked forward to teaching Ezra all the things he knew about animals and tracking and especially how to defend oneself. Hoss feared that children would find out about Ezra's birth and make him the target of insults. The boy would need how to use his fists.

"Sir," Fiona said wringing her hands, "would you like that I should take him? He probably wants for changing and a bottle and I can settle him in if the nursery is ready."

Hoss and Joe still smiled down at Ezra and his crying had died down to mere whimpers and an occasional hiccough. "No, no," Ben said, "I'll feed him and if need be, I'll change him. Why don't you get settled in the nursery? Then, after he's fed, I can bring him up to you."

"As you wish, sir, but…"

"Now go on. I'll have Hoss bring up your things."

"That is iffen Ezra ever lets go of my finger. I swear he's tryin' to eat it!" Ezra had pulled Hoss' finger into his mouth and was munching down on it with his first teeth barely through the gums.

Hop Sing had come out and hurried over to look at the baby as well. He grinned and with Hoss' finger still clasped and now wet from saliva, Ezra smiled back.

"I think he likes you, Hop Sing. Look at 'im smile," Joe said.

"Him handsome baby. Nice boy—big and strong. Look like Mistah Adam—handsome young boy. You let Hop Sing hold." Ben gingerly handed the baby over to Hop Sing, Ezra having released Hoss' finger, and the cook held the child up to take a measure of the child's size, the blanket falling open. "Solid. Good strong bones." Ezra put out a hand and patted Hop Sing's cheek which made the Chinese man smile even broader. "Yes. Hop Sing help raise you like he help raise Mistahs Hoss and Joe. Soon you ask in Chinese for cookies and milk. You help Hop Sing feed chickens and milk cows. You be another Cartwright, another son of the Ponderosa."

Ben's chest swelled with pride. i Another son of the Ponderosa. /i He had been determined to accept the boy but now that he had seen Ezra, Ben had no doubt in his mind—no matter what concerns Adam might have-that Ezra was a Cartwright through and through.

"Mr. Hop Sing," Fiona said, her hands going out to try to take the child, "perhaps I should take the child from you…"

Ben spoke up. "Now Fiona, you just come back from a long trip so go on upstairs and freshen up. There are clean towels and a pitched of water. Besides it's late and you must be tired. Consider yourself free of all responsibility until tomorrow morning. Hoss will bring up your bag. Now go ahead and if you're hungry, Hop Sing will make you a plate."

Fiona frowned but begrudgingly went into the house and Hoss looked from the baby and the men cooing over him to Adam and noticed how tired he looked as he emptied the wagon. Hoss patted the cow on her haunches. He then moved over and took Fiona's bag from Adam, putting it on the ground.

"We didn't expect you 'til sometime tomorrow. You done made good time."

"I pushed the horses but could only go so fast because of "Butter." Adam motioned with his head to the bovine tied to the back.

"Butter?"

"That damn cow."

"What happened to the goat?"

"Traded her and a few bills for the milk cow."

"Fine lookin' animal," Hoss patted the cow again, "for a cow, that is. But why?"

"To be honest, Hoss, I still don't really know why."

"Why's she called Butter? 'Cause she's kinda yeller?" Hoss looked back at the cow.

"Damned if I know or even care. Put her in the barn, will you? And feed her."

Hoss untied the rope and took the cow to the barn. Fiona, Ben, Hop Sing and Joe had gone into the house, one of them taking Ezra. Adam had watched them all fuss over the boy and Adam realized that he had only held the child once on the ride home—just once and that the child didn't know him at all—tried to push away. But then, Adam had to admit, he didn't know the child and the fact that Ezra might be Tom Burn's offspring had always made him less than warm to the infant.

Ada looked around him at the objects sitting on the dirt of the yard, the milk pail, the blankets and urine-soaked diapers that had been hung out the back of the wagon to dry and be reused, the pallet and blankets that Fiona and Era had slept on, the tin of hard tack, the fry pans and coffee pot and cups and the tin plates and utensils. Some of the nursing bottles were in a tin wash-tub partially filled with water so that after being rinsed, the bottles could be left to soak in a bit of soapy water so any milk residue wouldn't turn rancid and stink. The milk had a high cream content and easily turned in the heat of the day. He would have to ask Hop Sing to wash them or else Fiona would have to enter the sanctum of the Chinese cook's kitchen and take her chances and from what Adam had seen, he didn't see any friendship springing up between the two any time soon.

The horses stamped their feet and mouthed their bits. Now that they were home and so close to the barn, they were restless.

"All right, girl," Adam said as he began to unhitch one of the horse's. "You'll be fed soon and bedded down which is more than I can say for myself."

Hoss came back from the barn and he began to unhitch the other horse. "That Ezra's something else, Adam. He's a good-lookin' boy and strong as a bull. Why he grabbed my finger and wouldn't let go." Hoss chuckled. Adam said nothing, just continued with the traces that held the horse. Finally the horse was free and Adam led it into the barn where it eagerly trotted into its regular stall and turned itself around. It snuffled in the empty trough looking for any oats or other grain. Hoss brought in the other horse and put it in another stall.

Adam silently scooped up oats and poured them into the trough. Then he went to feed the other one while Hoss leaned against a post and watched.

"And what's so goddamn interesting about watching me feed the horses?"

"Nothin' in particular. What I did notice is that you ignored Ezra. Why's that? Don't tell me you still think he's Tom Burns'. He's the spittin' image of you."

Adam stared at Hoss. "And Tom was the spittin' image of me—so alike that he fooled people into thinking he was me and I fooled those who knew him best. So that was a stupid thing to say. Besides, Pa seems crazy about him and having a grandson and you and Joe and Hop Sing, well, Ezra will be raised by those better at it than I am. Hop Sing basically raised you single-handedly until Marie came on the scene and even then, Hop Sing raised Joe and you after Marie. And as much as I hate to admit it, you two turned out fine. And I have to say that Fiona's turned out to be a fine little mother. She seems truly fond of Ezra."

"Why shouldn't she be? He's a good baby. Did you see how quickly he got used to us? He didn't stay scared of us very long."

"Hoss," Adam said as he leaned back and rubbed his lower back, "I'm tired and all I want to do right now is go to bed and forget about this whole mess. I was hoping to get home early enough to go see Sylvia but it's too late." Adam started to leave the barn knowing Hoss would blow out the lantern. Then he turned back. "Have you seen Sylvia? Has she said anything about this, about Ezra?"

"I saw her in church Sunday and she came over and asked about you comin' home but then her Aunt Polly came over and said they had to go. Sylvia seemed not to want to go yet, like she had somethin' else she wanted to say, but she left." Hoss waited.

"I'm going to see her in the morning and if her Aunt Polly interferes…well, I'm not sure what I'll do but it won't be pleasant."

"Adam, is there somethin' 'bout you and Sylvia…I mean your business is yours but you ain't yet told what Sylvia said when you told her about Ezra—I'm guessin' you told her the truth 'bout how Ezra could very well be your son, but is there somethin' that maybe I can help with?"

After a short pause, Adam said, "You just did. It's my mind set."

"What?" Hoss was confused but Adam often confused him. Adam made jumps and such in his thinking that Hoss couldn't follow.

"All this time I've been of the mind that Ezra might not be, probably isn't mine, but there's also a chance he is. Ezra might very well be my son. I have a boy."

Hoss grinned. "Yeah. I got myself a nephew and a good-lookin' boy at that."

"Cause he takes after his father," Adam said with a sense of conviction. _I have a boy—accept it and believe it. I have a boy._


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Adam watched his father fuss over Ezra but the child refused to be confined to a lap so Ben put the child down on the rug and Hoss lifted the table and sat it on its edge across the fireplace so that Ezra couldn't get close to the flames. Then Hoss, Joe and Ben admired how Ezra crawled around and pulled himself up to a standing position using the settee and tested his legs by bouncing up and down.

"Strong boy," Hop Sing said and Ezra smiled up at him as he bounced. Then he hazarded a few steps but ended up sitting down with a thump. "Here." Hop Sing gave Ezra half a biscuit and the child, holding it in a fist, chewed on it. Soon his chin was a mess of wet crumbs.

"The child should be in bed already," Fiona said from the stairs as she walked down. She swooped him up. "And he's wet too. Did none of you men see that the babe needs changing…and what is this?" She pried the half-eaten biscuit from Ezra's hand and he loudly protested. "Did you wash the bottles I gave you?" she asked Hop Sing.

"I wash bottles," Hop Sing said frowning. Fiona handed the mess of dough to Hop Sing.

"Then fill a bottle and bring it up so that I can put the child down for the night…please." Fiona then turned her attention to Ezra as he began to fuss and rub his eyes sleepily. "Yes, it's been a long day, my beauty, and you need to sleep. Tomorrow you can be the Lord of the Ponderosa but tonight you're just a sleepy baby."

Ben came over and kissed his grandson on his dark, curly hair as he caressed the small head. "Goodnight, Ezra. Sleep well."

Fiona took Ezra upstairs and Hop Sing glowered after her. "I raise Hoss and Joe. Little girl not tell me what to give babies. Mistah Cartwright, she order me and tell what to do again, Hop Sig quit but I fix bottle for baby—but she not tell me what to do." Then he turned to go to the kitchen muttering in Chinese.

Adam shook his head, chuckling. "I hope I don't have to let Fiona go. She needs the work and Hop Sing is getting on in years. Besides, she has a good heart and Ezra has taken to her. Keeping after a baby is more work that I realized and I couldn't do it."

"Hop Sing done raised me good enough and Joe good enough," Hoss said.

"That speaks for itself and just proves that I shouldn't put Ezra in Hop Sing's care."

"Oh, you're funny," Joe said. "And on that insult, I'm going to bed. It's past 10:00."

"Yeah, I need to turn in too." Hoss went to the stairs but turned when Hop Sing called him. He rushed out of the kitchen, a full baby bottle in his hand.

"You take to girl upstairs." He still frowned. Hop Sing held grudges and as he remembered good deeds done to him, he also remembered any insult—even if the insult was just in his mind.

"Now, c'mon, Hop Sing. You need to get along with that bitty girl. She don't mean no harm."

"You take bottle." Hop Sing held out the bottle and sighing, Hoss took it and slowly climbed the stairs while Joe giggled.

"Looks like you were born to it," Joe said. "Hoss, the nursemaid."

"Shut up, Joe." Hoss scowled and stomped up the stairs.

Finally, Adam was alone with his father.

"Well, Adam, Ezra is a fine boy. I'm glad you brought him home. Have you any plans for what you're going to do now?"

Adam considered what to tell his father and how much to tell him. "I've asked Sylvia to marry me—I had made up my mind about her from the first time I met her here at dinner-and she's agreed." Ben started to say something and Adam cut him off. "Yes, I told her, Pa. I told Sylvia all about Ezra and his mother and the fact that someone else may be his father but to her credit, she didn't care—or at least she said she didn't." Adam moved the table that was still propped on its side in front of the fireplace and sat it upright on the rug, positioning it properly.

"There's a fire screen in the attic," Ben said. "Tomorrow morning we can find it and put it up. I remember that Joe was always knocking it down and Marie would become hysterical and once demanded that I wall up the fireplace. I asked her about the stove on the other side of the room. What about that? Would she prefer Joe freeze? She didn't know what to say then and stopped complaining but she never left Joe alone in this room. Fire draws children to it—they're like moths, drawn to what would harm them the most. But then adults are the same way, I suppose. We always think we can conquer anything until we get to a certain age or have been burned so many times we're nothing but scar tissue."

"All right, Pa, what's your point? You're talking in metaphors."

"I suppose it's that we have to think about Ezra now—our lives have changed. Adam, since you have a child, he has to come first. Fiona is a fine nurse for him—she seems to care for him and Hop Sing is older and probably can't keep up with an infant but please talk to her; I can't have Hop Sing threatening to quit every five minutes because he thinks she's a bossy girl."

Adam chuckled. "Fiona is determined and believes that her way is the only way—she and Hop Sing have that much in common but I'll talk to her."

"What about when you marry? Will you keep Fiona on or expect Sylvia to take over immediately?" Ben waited but Adam said nothing; he hadn't considered it. "As much as Marie didn't like handing Joe over to anyone else, even Hop Sing, she couldn't have taken care of Joe all day and all night; she wasn't raised that way. From what you've told me, Sylvia has no siblings either, no experience with infants and children. Will you expect her to do everything for Ezra?"

"I don't know. I suppose there's more to discuss than I thought. Fiona needs employment and…I suppose it's a lot to ask of Sylvia to be my wife and then expect her to immediately be both nursemaid and mother to Ezra…but I remember what you said about two women in the same house. Both of them together may be too much—but maybe not."

"Fiona, Sylvia and Hop Sing," Ben added, "all in the same house. The hierarchy will be turned on its ear."

Adam cleared his throat. "Pa, I don't think, well, I don't plan on us living here. I thought I might lease the old Richard's place until I can build a house. I was considering the property on the west side, building it so the lake can be seen from the back of the house. Sylvia fell in love with the lake when I took her there for the first time so I've always planned on it."

"I see. So you'd move out. Well, I can understand that."

"Pa, with me and Sylvia and Ezra…and Fiona, well, that would be eight people in this house. We'd be tripping over each other."

"I understand, Adam. I understand wanting your own house for your own family."

Adam stood up. "I'm heading for bed. Ezra's always awake at the crack of dawn. Oh, I almost forgot." Adam pulled out his wallet. "I have Ezra's record of birth. Ann named him Ezra Thomas Cartwright—I guess she was hedging her bets."

"When is his birthday?"

"May 24th. He'll be a year old in almost three months."

"Put it in the Bible, would you, Adam? I'll add his name tomorrow."

Adam walked over to the table behind the settee where the large Cartwright family Bible sat. Ben had taken it with him long ago when he and Adam had stopped at his older brother John's place on their journey west. John had said that he was planning on taking his son, Will, and traveling to Asia. There was money to be made in Oriental spices and silks. He couldn't pack the huge tome so Ben grateful took it and it stayed on the table in the great room. Adam slipped the folded paper in the back of the Bible.

"Well, I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Pa."

"Goodnight, Adam. Sleep well."

"I'll have to sleep better than I have been. I swear I'm getting too damn old to sleep on the ground."

Ben smiled and Adam climbed the stairs, rubbing his back. Then Ben's smile dropped. He hadn't considered Adam moving out but it made sense. He would do the same thing if he were in Adam's position and yet he had fallen in love with the boy—his grandson—and the thought of being separated from him grieved him. But he was only the grandfather and needed to keep his opinion to himself. Ben packed his cold pipe with tobacco and lit it. One more smoke and he'd go to bed. And thinking about Ezra being up and around in the morning made him smile. He ached to see the child again.

It was early—too early really to be calling as it was a bit before noon when Adam rode up to the house that Polly Matthews had leased for herself five years ago. And then Sylvia arrived to stay for a bit at her parents' urgings; Sylvia needed a change in surroundings, they had said and they hoped to encourage her to stay awhile, to make it a lengthy visit.

It was due to her melancholy after her sad loss that her parents suggested Sylvia visit her aunt out west; her Aunt Polly was a spinster and would welcome the company, they suggested—she was so lonely out in Nevada by herself. But in reality, it was for Sylvia's sake that they wanted to send her. "Due to her fiancé's untimely demise, your brother and I believe that it would be beneficial to remove Sylvia from all that reminds her of Philip and the tragedy. If you wouldn't mind, my dear sister, may we send her to you for a visit?"

Polly read that section over and over before she took up her pen and wrote her sister-in-law that she understood the situation and would be happy to host dear Sylvia for a time until she recovered from the unfortunate, heart-breaking loss of her fiancé. "I hope that Sylvia won't be bored as I live a quiet life and do not entertain," Polly Matthews replied. Polly then sat back and wondered about the young man whom her niece almost married—the eldest son of a wealthy family, she had been told in an earlier letter.

It seemed that Sylvia, had been engaged to a young man who, although he had tragically died, had also—unknown to her family-proved himself in her eyes to be a reckless fool; she was more than happy to leave the city in which her milieu knew all about the situation in which Mr. Philip Stewart had gone down into the mines to show the workers that the timbering was safe and when he pounded on a support in brash hubris, a cave-in occurred. Although Philip was eventually pulled to safety after the rocks and dirt had been dug away, he died within a few hours; his lungs had been crushed—the five other men had never been recovered; they had died under the crushing weight of the heavy stones and tons of dirt. Sylvia had found it difficult to work up grief and she couldn't understand why. She came to the conclusion that she must be heartless and cold but she did have sudden insight to the fact that the better she knew Philip and his family, the less affection she had toward him and had actually found herself heartily disliking many things about him, his friends and mostly his family..

Philip was too materialistic in his desire for wealth-avaricious. She had witnessed the Pennsylvania countryside become barren and sooty due to the coal mining. Dirt and dust always seemed to fill the air and when she returned from a trip with Philip who was proud of the mine that he and his family owned because it seemed to belch forth tons of coal, Sylvia always found that she and her clothing had an coat of light, black dust that settled into the folds of her clothing and below her eyes as well as in her hat and hair.

At the mining site, Sylvia had seen young boys no older than eight or nine, the whites of their eyes shocking in their begrimed faces as they came out of the mines.

"Philip," she had said, "these boys should be in school, not working in a hole in the ground. What about sunlight and fresh air? How are they supposed to grow?"

"It's their families' choice that they work. We don't make them—their mothers and fathers send them."

"But you mustn't allow it! You should send them away—tell them to attend school." Sylvia was appalled. "There must be laws against it."

"It's not my choice, Sylvia. Listen to me. What you're suggesting would push the families deeper into poverty. They want their children to work. Do you want me to tell them that they now have to live on less?"

Sylvia sat in the buggy and thought quickly; something had to be done. "Pay the miners more. If you pay them more than the children can go to school." It seemed a simple solution to her.

Philip derisively laughed. "Sylvia, you know nothing about business and nothing about shareholders. And where is the money to come from? Do you think that's gold that they're taking from the ground? It's coal and it goes through many hands. A lot of people have to be paid."

"Mining inspectors? Do they have to be paid off as well?" Sylvia knew better than to fling insults—most unladylike—but she couldn't suppress her disgust.

Philip turned an angry face to his fiancée. "Don't talk about things that you know nothing about." He snapped the reins of the horse pulling the small buggy. "I don't think you should visit the mines again. Each time I bring you, you do nothing but criticize. Maybe it's best that you just enjoy what money can buy and not see how it's made. My father warned me not to bring you to the mines but I told him he was old-fashioned."

"Philip, I'm sorry but I'm not criticizing—I'm looking for solutions. You and your family and your partners'—all of you have a nice living, nice homes and such. All of you could spare a bit to make others' lives better. I don't see how…"

"Sylvia, I don't care to talk about it as you aren't grounded in reality." He sighed and then smiled gently. "Let's go visit the Brockingtons. I promised Cecily that I'd bring you by again. She has taken to you. I think that you two might become great friends."

Sylvia sat back against the padded buggy seat and looked out at the view, the landscape already changing as they came closer to the city. Something had to be done, that Sylvia knew. Her conscience would bother her if she lived a grand life and went to parties and socials while small boys coughed from the black coal dust coating their lungs. Why was life so difficult?

And then Philip had died in the cave-in and Sylvia felt it was a type of poetic justice—she felt God's hand was in it. Nevertheless, his death didn't change anything and now that Sylvia no longer had an in with the mining people, she was basically ostracized as her family was not one of the most wealthy in Pennsylvania. Besides, under the protection of her engagement to Philip, she had espoused her beliefs about the cruelty that mining engendered not to mention how it left the countryside bereft of any beauty and that when it rained, the ground became a mucky, back, tarry surface. Not only that, but she had championed having the children work on the surface if they had to work at all and releasing them at least four hours a day to attend a school on the grounds. These were not popular topics among the mining people and despite the fact that Philip had asked her not to discuss such things at gatherings, Sylvia always did. She took a perverse satisfaction from the other people's discomfiture when she told them what was reality, about the intense poverty of the miners' families and that their young children, mainly the boys but on rare occasions, even the young girls, were sent down into the mines or worked on the surface separating chunks of coal by hand and cleaving the larger pieces into smaller ones.

Philip would chastise Sylvia, saying that if she kept up her tactic of subtly insulting all the mine owners and investors, his parents may forbid him to marry her.

"I thought you loved me, Philip," she had said the evening before he died. "You once said that nothing and no one could keep us apart. Didn't you mean that?"

"Of course I meant it, Sylvia, but you wouldn't want my father to cut me out of the business would you? What would we do then?" Philip was terse and Sylvia knew then how angry with her he really was.

"I'm sorry, Philip." Sylvia glanced over at him as he drove the buggy. He had declined the family's driver for the night—Sylvia always said it was pretentious and chided him for having too many servants-so he drove the buggy himself. Philip was a handsome man with thick, wavy blond and with just a touch of ruggedness about his jaw and he did love her—Sylvia knew that but she also sensed that he would throw her over if his father insisted that he do so. "I just, well, I feel that…I don't know, Philip. Maybe I'm just not right for you." Sylvia sat back and said nothing more and Philip reached over and took her gloved hand in his. Sylvia turned and smiled at him and he, at her. "You're the right woman for me, Sylvia. There can't be anyone else." And the next day he was dead.

Philip Stewart and Adam Cartwright were polar opposites as far as Sylvia was concerned and when she met Adam and came to know him, she realized that there were different types of men to whom she was drawn. They were both sons in wealthy families and had to put the family name first but yet Adam was very different from the type of man Philip had been. But when Adam kissed her, it sent a thrill through her being that Philip's kisses never had. Whenever Adam would show up at the door of her aunt's house, Sylvia felt her heart step up with the joy of seeing his face and his smile.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Adam stood outside the front door of the house and rapped with his knuckles. There was a fancy brass knocker on the door but Adam didn't care to use it for some reason. He saw the sheer curtains at the front window pushed aside and saw Sylvia's face looking out. Her mouth opened in surprise and then the curtain fell and the door was quickly opened. Adam had to smile when he saw her joy and then he laughed when she threw herself into his arms.

"Oh, Adam, I'm so glad you're back," Sylvia looked up into his face, examining it to see if his feelings for her had changed. "Did you miss me?"

"More than you could possibly know," he said and held her closer. A sudden passion overtook him and he suddenly wanted to marry her immediately. He wanted no one else in his life but Sylvia—that to him would be perfect. Just him and Sylvia in a small house set off from all society. There they could enjoy each other's bodies and revel in the physical aspects of a relationship and during pauses in their passionate embraces, they would talk and explore the way each other thought. He knew there was more to her than that as she often surprised him and he realized he actually knew so little about her but at the moment he wanted to abandon all other responsibilities and just live in her glory, her beauty and her love.

"Did you bring…your son home?"

"Yes." Adam felt relief when Sylvia smiled; she even seemed to relax a bit.

"Good. I'm glad that you did. Come in, Adam. Please." Sylvia took his hand and pulled him into the parlor. "Aunt Polly, Adam is here." Sylvia stood in front of Adam, holding his hand behind her, and he felt that she was protecting him.

Polly was setting the table for lunch. She pulled herself up as tall as she could to appear more dignified and formidable. "I told you what I think, Sylvia, and if you go ahead with this relationship, well, your parents had better not blame me as I wash my hands of the whole thing." Polly left the room. The silver ware hadn't yet been laid..

Sylvia turned to Adam. "Don't mind Aunt Polly; change is difficult for her to accept. Won't you have lunch with us? Please, Adam."

"I don't think I should. I'll be back in an hour. Do you mind? " He caressed her face; she was beautiful and he realized how lucky he was that she loved him.

"Oh, Adam—please stay. I want Aunt Polly to know you better and to like you." Sylvia, still holding Adam's hand, turned and with an awkward smile, led him into the dining room and asked him to sit and Join them.

"Before I do, what have you told your aunt?"

She sighed before she spoke. "I told her about your son and that you had asked me to marry you. She said that you were only marrying me to give your son a mother."

"Sylvia, that's not…"

She put her fingers to his mouth to stop him from talking. "It doesn't matter, Adam. I don't care what the reason is. I want to be your wife and that's all that matters—at least to me."

"Sylvia, I've told you that I love you and I mean it—I do. I've missed you so much—so very much these past few days. I wondered if you had changed your mind about me, if the idea of my already having a child had soured you."

"No, it hasn't and I want to meet him, Adam. Will you take me to meet him?" Sylvia held onto Adam's hand.

"Now?"

"After lunch. Join us and then I'll tell Rollie to hitch up the buggy; we can go out to the Ponderosa together."

"Are you sure about this, Sylvia?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Sylvia raised herself on her toes and kissed Adam lightly on the cheek and then smiled at him; he had to smile back—she was so lovely. "Now stay for lunch. I'll fetch you a setting." Sylvia left him and he could hear hushed voices exchanged in the kitchen but they weren't loud enough for him to understand; all Adam knew was that one voice was Aunt Polly's and one was Sylvia's.

Aunt Polly was dour through the meal which consisted of a pasty pie filled with chunks of tender beef, potatoes, carrots, peas and a thick brown, savory sauce all enveloped in a rich crust. Although Sylvia only sipped water, both Adam and Aunt Polly sipped a sweet sherry "to balance the savory," Aunt Polly had said. Adam didn't care much for the sherry or its cloying sweetness—he much preferred a dry sherry if he was forced to accept one for politeness' sake but he said nothing. He was determined to be compliant and excruciatingly civil.

Sylvia carried the burden of the conversation, trying desperately to engage her aunt and Adam in a mutual subject and Adam tried his best to assist her but Aunt Polly answered in polite monosyllables and methodically ate.

"Aunt Polly, I'm going with Adam out to the Ponderosa to meet…" She looked to Adam.

"I've brought my son home. Sylvia wants to meet him."

Polly pushed her half-eaten food away from her and placed her hands in her lap. "I have tried to point out to Sylvia that you need a mother for your child and a wife to hopefully deter any scandal. Who better than a young, foolish girl who has been won over by your dashing looks and wealth. People may not be as vicious and cruel since she is…vulnerable."

"Aunt Polly!"

Adam put his hand over Sylvia's as she started to rise. She sat back down and looked to him, not knowing what he was going to say but fearing it.

"I know you love Sylvia—I do as well—and you're correct in that I do need a wife and a mother for Ezra. But I can't think of anyone I would rather marry than Sylvia—I had decided upon it even before I knew of my son. And she has a pure heart…" Adam stopped; he was saying more than he intended, revealing more of his heart than he was comfortable with but he wanted Polly to know that he loved her niece. "I don't deserve Sylvia. I know that—but Ezra, my son, does."

Aunt Polly stood, quaking and Adam stood as well. "You've taken advantage of her…of her…social conscience, so to speak. You knew that the idea of a motherless child would appeal to her heart and you've taken advantage of my niece. May you be damned if you ever hurt her." Polly walked out of the room with all the dignity she could manage.

"Sylvia," Adam said, sitting back down. "Perhaps we should…wait. What your Aunt Polly was brave enough to tell me, what she thinks, others probably do as well. I just hope you don't."

Sylvia gave him her bravest smile. It wouldn't do to tell Adam her fears and reservations—not now. She knew Adam had his own fears with which to deal and she was determined to stay strong for his sake.

"Take me to meet Ezra, Adam. Will you?"

At that moment when Sylvia stood before him, her face glowing with love, Adam was sure that he had made the correct choice of wife.

Fiona sat at the table with Ezra in her lap while a disapproving Hoss stuck his head out of the kitchen to gauge her progress. She was trying to feed Ezra hominy grits that had been thinned with milk. He kept trying to wrest the spoon from her hand and whenever she managed to get a spoonful in his mouth, he pushed half out with his tongue. His gown was soaked with the grits—he had fussed so much about the napkin tied around his neck to protect his clothes, pulling at it, that Fiona finally took it off.

"Take off gown," Hop Sing had advised her. "Easier wash child than clothes." But Fiona had said that she wouldn't have Ezra look like some pagan child who ran around in diapers only. Modesty needed to be instilled at an early age. Ben had needed to step in and resolve the issue before Hop Sing gave his walking papers again.

Adam and Sylvia walked in the house and Ben rose from his chair where he had been reading the i_Territorial Enterprise./i_

"Why, Sylvia, how lovely to see you." Ben took Sylvia's hand and looked to Adam.

"I told my father we were to be married."

"I hope you approve," Sylvia said.

"Overwhelmingly!" Ben smiled at Sylvia. He saw the attraction she held for Adam; she was a beautiful woman and he even felt the draw. Ben had to remind himself that she would be his daughter-in-law, his daughter and he needed to ignore her beauty.

Adam slipped his arm around Sylvia's waist and turned her to the table where Ezra babbled, beating with the spoon that he had finally managed to take from Fiona, on the table top. Hop Sing came out of the kitchen and took the silver spoon from him and gave him a large wooden spoon instead that Ezra immediately put in his mouth.

"Fiona, this is Miss Sylvia Matthews." Adam looked proudly over at Sylvia. "She's going to be my wife and Ezra's mother."

"Oh, well, I suppose then that you'd best be getting' to know him right away. He's a fine boy and a true boy not mindin' if he's a mess." Fiona stood up, holding Ezra out like a sack of flour and handed him over to Sylvia who was surprised but took the child.

"Fiona!" Adam said. "Sylvia—your dress. Here hand him to me."

"No, no, Adam. I want to hold him. He's a sturdy one, isn't he?" Sylvia looked down at the child she placed on her hip, her arm around him. He had grits in his hair and on his gown and smeared over his chin and round cheeks but he looked at her with his large hazel eyes and smiled as babies do, still gnawing on the wooden spoon.

"Oh, so you think you're a clever boy," Sylvia said, adjusting Ezra in her arms as Fiona glared. Things hadn't gone as she had hoped. Instead of being fussy about her clothing as most fine ladies were, this woman seemed less inclined to put on airs. Fiona knew about fine ladies who only saw their children twice a day—in the morning before the day's social activities, and at night when the children were washed and put to bed. They relied on the nurses to take care of their children and if only Miss Matthews were like that, well, her employment would be assured but Miss Matthews seemed to like the child. Or maybe, Fiona hoped, maybe she was only seeming to like the boy to please Mr. Cartwright.

"Sylvia, why don't you give him back to Fiona to wash and dress? You can…well, I'm sure you can wipe off the cereal…" Adam stood looking helpless. But Sylvia just laughed and sat down on the settee with Ezra on her lap.

"Oh, Adam, he's beautiful—he has your mouth and your chin. And his eyes are your color—not brown, not green and a bit of gold." Sylvia talked nonsense to Ezra and he tried to share his spoon with her by putting it to her mouth. She laughed. "No thank you, Ezra. I believe that's your spoon alone."

Waves of relief washed over Adam. Sylvia seemed to like Ezra—sincerely—and he appeared to take to her; he kept his eyes on her and smiled continually.

Fiona walked over and to Sylvia and put out her arms. "Let me take him, ma'am. I'm sure he's going to wet any moment and you don't want a wet lap." Fiona picked up Ezra and pulled him off Sylvia's lap.

"Oh, I suppose—all right, Fiona." Sylvia stood up as Fiona, holding Ezra who still chewed on the spoon, took the child upstairs.

"Sylvia," Ben said, "I'm sorry about your dress."

"Yes," Adam said. "I'll pay to have it cleaned."

"I take to number four cousin," Hop Sing said. He was wiping off the table top and the floor where the grits had spilled. "He have laundry and do all Cartwright fancy clothes."

"Really, it's not worth any fuss," Sylvia said. "It's just a bit of cereal," she said as she attempted to brush the morsels of cereal off the bodice, "and this is an everyday dress. It's nothing—really. Just a wet cloth, a little wipe and it'll be good as new. Babies are babies and they're messy. I know that, Adam. I do. I'm not walking blindly into this." Her chin quivered slightly. Seeing Ezra had affected her more than she thought it would—she found herself wishing she were truly his mother, had given birth to him. But the reaction that shocked Sylvia the most was that even though Ezra's mother was dead, Sylvia envied her. The child's mother had lain in Adam's arm, pleasured him and the child was the proof of their joining. Sylvia felt her heart would break. Hop Sing broke the silence and she swallowed the tears that threatened to fall.

"You come with Hop Sing. Come into kitchen. I make nice cup of tea for you as well." Hop Sing motioned with the hand holding the dish rag and Sylvia looked to Adam and offered a small smile. Adam noticed her eyes glistening. He realized that she was overcome with emotion but he couldn't resist her. Adam held her chin up and leaned down and kissed her. Ben and Hop Sing both politely averted their eyes.

"Thank you, Sylvia," he whispered, his mouth next to her ear. He could smell the sweetness of her hair, the soft scent of her skin. "Thank you for not leaving me alone in all this."

"A wife is to be her husband's help-meet. I believe that's the Biblical term," Sylvia said trying to make light of her decision to marry him—child and all. "Now let me go make myself presentable. I can't let my Aunt see me like this. She'll think I had a bout of clumsiness."

Adam smiled and Sylvia left with Hop Sing. Then he turned to his father who stood with his hands in his pockets. "Sylvia's a fine young woman, Adam. You had best treat her well."

"Now why wouldn't I?"

"Why indeed? Just don't treat her like a servant in your house. Ezra is your son—not hers. You need to love the boy no matter what doubts you have. None of it is Ezra's fault or Sylvia's. Be good to them both."

"It never occurred to me not to be," Adam said. Ben sat back down and took up his newspaper again. Adam stood still for a few seconds more. He was no longer sure that he wanted to share Sylvia with Ezra; he wanted all of her attention, all of her love. Adam knew it was selfish and childish but he wanted her all to himself and in a way, he knew that it was because he felt that no one had loved him alone—just him and no one else. And the small, lonely boy inside him wanted to be loved the most by Sylvia.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"Now, if you would just lie still while I change you…" Fiona said. She put the fresh diaper underneath Ezra having dropped the used one into a pail filled with soapy water, and then poured some corn starch into her palm and smoothed it on the baby's skin. He twisted to crawl away and Fiona turned him back over. "Just lie still for a bit longer. I'm almost finished." Ezra wouldn't lie still and Fiona struggled with him a bit more until she finally succeeded in diapering him. Then, using a wash cloth she had already wet in the basin and wrung out, she wiped the cereal off his face and neck and arms. He swung the wooden spoon he had refused to give up and inadvertently hit Fiona on the head.

"Ow," she said and pulled a clean gown over his head. She placed first one arm through the sleeves and then, having to take the spoon from him, she pulled Ezra's other arm through it while he made his displeasure obvious. "Here's your spoon back, your majesty." She picked Ezra up, kissing his cheek. "You're a beauty, you are." She put Ezra in his crib, not even letting down the side. It was a sturdy piece of furniture and Mr. Cartwright had told her that he had borrowed it from Mrs. Shaughnessy who no longer had any use for it; all her children were grown and their children were now too old for it.

Ezra protested, shouting and swinging the spoon outside the rail. Then he sat heavily down and began to beat the stuffed bear that was in the crib with him. Fiona looked around the nursery. Her bed was comfortable enough and there was a heavy iron grate in front of the fireplace. A plush rug was on the floor for Ezra to crawl comfortably and the shelves were well-stocked with toys. There was a stuffed rag doll, a horse pull-toy, a bear pull-toy as well as a duck. Alphabet blocks were orderly arranged in a box and a row of wooden soldiers stood at attention. On another shelf were stacks of diapers and in the bureau were gowns and booties—some of which the child had outgrown long before he even arrived at the Ponderosa. Ben Cartwright had laughed and said that it looked as though he was going to have to donate most of the clothes to the church and buy some more. Ezra's feet would soon be big enough for the child to wear Hoss' boots.

While Ezra entertained himself in the crib Fiona sat and considered Miss Sylvia Matthews. She was jealous and envious of the woman. Fiona knew she herself wasn't beautiful but many a man had attempted to steal a kiss from her. Adam was much older than she was, she knew and considered, but that didn't stop her from admiring him and enjoying the man's beauty of face and the strength of his body. Adam Cartwright had never even looked at her the way a man did at a woman—or the way he did at Sylvia. He was going to marry Sylvia and when he did, he would take her into a bedroom and satisfy his urges, the urges that all men had. Fiona knew all about that. Her mother had warned her early on about men.

"But, mother," Fiona had said, "in the Bible it says that a wife should submit to her husband as she does to the Lord."

"There's nothin' Biblical 'bout a man slaverin' over a woman like a beast does over his food. Just make sure that when you take a husband, it's someone you don't mind layin' on you. Don't be like me and marry because you need someone to take care of you. And keep your knees together until he puts a ring on your finger."

"I wouldn't mind him," Fiona said quietly to herself about Adam. She sighed. She had day-dreamed about Adam falling in love with her and marrying her once she turned 18 but now Sylvia had become a reality she couldn't ignore. i I've just got to face it, Adam Cartwright wants a woman, not a girl and he's in love with that woman with the stick up her arse. Prissy, she is. Soon they'll marry and they won't need me and he'll put me out. Cassie warned me. She told me not to fall in love with him and I did anyway. She warned me, told me that she loved 'im as well but that he didn't love her./i

Fiona gasped. i Of course! That's it! When I tell Sylvia what Cassie told me about Adam, that every time he visited Ezra, he shared her bed, well, Sylvia will think that he doesn't really love her and then, well…but I can't do that. That would be spiteful and God would never forgive me for being so cruel and there's no priest to confess to and forgive me for my thoughts. /i Fiona dropped to her knees by the side of the bed and said a small prayer that she be as pure of heart as the Virgin Mary herself and to be forgiven for her sins of concupiscence. Fiona wasn't quite sure what the word "concupiscence" encompassed but she was certain that she was very guilty of it as she had heard it many times in church straight from the priest's mouth.

"Well, unless I begin to smell like sour milk, I think I'm fine." Sylvia smiled and fanned the wet spot on the bodice of her dress. "Is Fiona bringing Ezra back down? I really would like to know him better."

"Let's go sit on the porch," Adam said taking her hand and pulling her toward the front door. He already had her wrap in his hand.

"All right." Sylvia looked back at Ben who, although he had been watching, resumed the impression of interest in his newspaper.

The day was bright, the sky a clear blue with scuds of clouds. Adam placed Sylvia's shawl about her shoulders and then took her over to a bench near the end of the porch where they sat down.

Sylvia looked out at the barn and the property and smiled. "It's so beautiful out here, Adam, and although the house is basically a man's—rugged furniture and Indian rugs on the floor—plastered walls and open beams—I find it very warm and comfortable. Why, I'd marry you for the house alone." Sylvia laughed lightly but noticed that Adam looked worried.

"What is it, Adam? Tell me." Sylvia wondered if he had changed his mind after seeing her so awkward with Ezra. "I know I haven't had much experience with babies or small children but there's no reason I can't learn. And if you keep Fiona as his nurse, she can guide me although I have the feeling she doesn't care much for me. Perhaps she sees me as an intruder which I suppose, in a way, I am." Sylvia looked at her folded hands in her lap. Adam's silence made her want to babble, to fill the silence that suddenly shrouded them.

Adam reached over and covered her hands with one of his. She turned to him, hopeful that he would smile and comfort her. Adam leaned over and kissed her.

"So, you brought me on the porch to kiss me, hmm? Not a bad reason." She turned slightly to look at Adam.

"Sylvia, I've been making plans—about us, the three of us—well, I suppose with Fiona, it's the four of us. I should have talked to you earlier but…"

"Oh? Life-shattering plans, Adam? Don't tell me there's another son." Sylvia smiled but Adam didn't—he looked upset. Sylvia held onto his arm. "Adam, I was only making a joke. I suppose it's not funny."

"Sylvia, listen to me…" Adam considered what he should say. "I'd like to build a house of our own."

She was relieved. "That would be lovely, having my own house," Sylvia imagined what it would be like, another house designed like the Ponderosa. After all, Ben had told her and her aunt that night over a year ago when they had come to dinner and Adam had come into her life, that Adam had basically rebuilt the whole house from the small ranch house that had already been on the property. Ben told them that he had considered building a house somewhere else on the property but the site was perfect as far as he was concerned. It was sheltered by trees and was located advantageously. Besides the sturdy pines that composed the walls were still good and properly weathered. Therefore, Adam redesigned the fireplace, the kitchen per Hop Sing's preferences and raised the house up instead of out in length so that no more trees needed to be cut.

"I thought we'd lease a ranch house near the property—I'll take you by to see it. Then we can live there with Ezra and Fiona until the house is finished." Adam stopped, examining Sylvia's face. "What do you think?"

"Whatever you think is best…I suppose. It would be quite the burden to your family to have all of us live here but we could live with my aunt instead. Actually, it would give her a chance to know you and Ezra better."

"I don't think that would work out, living with your aunt. I would be too uncomfortable." Adam sighed and turned his attention to the barn and the corral beside it. A horse was in the corral and a ranch hand was putting it through its gaits by longeing the animal-holding a long rope attached to the bridle and snapping a whip in the air.

Sylvia followed his gaze. "Adam, are you ready to marry? Be honest—please."

"Of course, I am. I asked you, didn't I? And you did say yes, Sylvia. You told me you'd marry me."

"Yes, I did. I agreed because I love you. But, Adam, you need a mother for your son and that could be any woman who wants a husband—a rich husband like you. You're handsome as well and I've seen how women look at you at church and want to dance with you at socials and such. With the attentions you've paid me, it's been difficult to find a friend—I think I may be an object of envy, but I never really minded not having a female friend since I had you and you've been my closest friend and you've also loved me—or led me to believe you did." Sylvia smiled gently. "But I do get the impression that you may not love me as much as I would want. Tell me the truth, Adam. I wouldn't want to marry you only to later learn that you really want someone else—that you yearned for another woman. I can't imagine anything worse."

"I want to marry you, Sylvia." Adam stood up, obviously annoyed. "What do you need? A notarized statement, a sworn declaration of love?"

"You don't have to be sarcastic."

"I'm sorry but I don't know what else you need?" Adam sat back down and took her hands again. "Sylvia, listen to me and believe me—I love only you and want no one else but you. If you want us to live with your aunt, well…we will. I'll start our house and just pound in the nails a little faster." Sylvia smiled and Adam was encouraged. "And since her house is so small, well, we'd probably be bumping into each other in the privy."

"Oh, Adam," Sylvia said. "All right. I believe you—I believe that you love me."

"Fully and completely?"

"Fully and completely." Adam dropped to one knee in front of her. "Adam, what are you doing? He's watching us." The ranch hand had finished with the horse and had turned to stare at Adam Cartwright on his knee.

"Good. Then I have a witness. I love you, Sylvia Matthews, and it would give me the greatest pleasure if you would do me the honor of being my wife. I swear eternal love and will take care of you your whole life. Say yes, Sylvia. Say yes and make me the happiest man on earth." He smiled at her.

"Adam, get up and don't be so silly."

"Not until you say you'll marry me."

"All right—I'll say it again. I'll marry you."

Adam stood up and dusted off the knees of his trousers. "Now was that so hard?" She made a dismissive sound. "I'm glad that you're marrying me now and not in a few years; I don't know that my knees would have held out and let me back up. You're marrying an old man, Sylvia."

Sylvia stood up and put her arms around his waist. "Yes, I am marrying you—and the sooner I do, the happier I'll be—the happier we'll be."

"May I kiss you in front of Grange over there?" Adam motioned with his head to the ranch hand who, according to the sounds, was leading the horse out of the corral.

"Yes, you may. You had better to seal the deal."

And grinning, Adam held Sylvia closer but as he kissed her, the lightheartedness of the moment left him and he felt the heat of passion rise up in him again. He needed to marry Sylvia, needed some way to cool the desire that she roused in him.

"Adam," Sylvia pulled away a bit. "We should go in. Please."

"All right. We'll go in. I know-why don't we take a buggy ride? I'll have Hop Sing pack us a light dinner and we'll go out to the lake?"

"What about Ezra?"

"Leave him here with Fiona to watch him. That's what she's paid to do." And placing a hand on the small of her back, Adam led his soon-to-be-bride into the house calling out to Hop Sing and asking him to pack a basket for two.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Pastor Cleary was surprised to see Adam Cartwright and Sylvia Matthews at his front door after 8:00 PM. He had been on his way up the stores to bed when there was the persistent knocking.

"Now who do you think that is?" his wife asked as stood on the step before him.

Pastor Cleary looked at his wife with impatience. "I'm a pastor—not a fortune teller. I have to go see." He sighed heavily; it had been a long day and he had been looking forward to a good night's sleep.

"You be careful, Andrew. Don't open the door to any burglars or killers."

"I'll ask them first if they're killers or robbers before I do. If they answer yes, I won't open the door." He went down the stairs while the knocking on the front door continued at regular intervals. "I'm coming," he shouted. He reached the door and pulled the bolt but his wife's words stayed with him. "Who is it this time of night?"

"Adam Cartwright, Pastor Cleary. I want to be married to Sylvia Matthews-tonight. Please open up for us."

The Pastor opened the door and the two young people stood there, their arms entwined. Her cheeks wee flushed and her lips seemed a bit redder but she was smiling; Sylvia Matthews looked genuinely happy. Adam Cartwright looked eager and exultant.

"Well, come in you two. At least you're not two young pups wanting to wed each other despite their parents' objections."

Adam and Sylvia stood in the parlor. Adam pulled off his hat. "Will you perform the wedding? Now."

"That's part of my duties, son. Let me call my wife to witness. She's probably standing at the bedroom door listening" He turned and was about to call out "Mildred," when he saw her at the top of the stairs. "Come down, Mildred. There's going to be a wedding and I need you to witness and sign the paper."

Sylvia Matthews became Mrs. Adam Cartwright after spending the whole afternoon and the early evening in his company. The minister and the witness were in weary and there were no flowers or veil or music but Sylvia didn't care. She and Adam had talked that whole afternoon and he had poured out his heart to her, telling her things that she had never known and with each thing revealed, each thing that he feared would make her turn from him, she loved him more. Adam told her his fears and his dreams and she listened with his head on her lap and stroked his hair. He kissed her hand and told her that she meant more to him than anyone else and that he loved her almost to the point of desperation. And then Sylvia had said that she never wanted to be without him—never again. It was then that Adam asked her if she would like to marry him that very night.

"Tonight? Adam, do you mean that?"

"Yes, I mean it." He pulled her down to him again on the blanket and their bodies pressed against each other. All afternoon he had subdued the fire that raged within him, his heat for Sylvia and he didn't want to have to anymore. He loved her and wanted her to be his wife. And so, Pastor Cleary in his sedate parlor of the parsonage married Adam and Sylvia.

"Adam, please," Sylvia said as their buggy pulled up to Sylvia's aunt's house, "Let me tell Aunt Pollly. And if she reacts badly, promise me you won't say anything—won't defend me or anything. I know my aunt well and it will just make her more upset."

"You expect me to just stand by if she tears into you? I'm sure she'll say something about you not having a ring yet and…"

"Adam," Sylvia said, smiling gently and then kissing him lightly. "Those things don't matter to me. You know that. Besides, you said that you want me to have your mother's ring. Let my aunt say what she will; it doesn't matter."

"Sylvia, I can't just stand there and let her say hurtful things to you."

"Adam, I know that you and she don't get along but she is my aunt and she has let me stay with her and been more than generous. If she says anything hurtful, she won't really mean it. Just remember that. Now promise me."

Adam worked his jaw. Sylvia was asking him to stand by and not say anything to defend her if her aunt was cruel-but Adam knew there was no "if." Sylvia's aunt never cared for him no matter how courteous or thoughtful he was of Sylvia. Adam wouldn't play up to Aunt Polly but he always hoped that if she could see his honest affection for Sylvia, his love for her niece, that she would, if not approve, at least not interfere. But many a time she had come out on the front porch and told Sylvia it was late and time for her to say goodnight to Mr. Cartwright; she never referred to him as "Adam." For Sylvia's sake, Adam never responded to Aunt Polly in a snide or sarcastic way, no matter how many times the words came to his lips. But once when Aunt Polly had come out and he and Sylvia were in a lovers' embrace, she had chastised her niece and ordered her in the house. Sylvia, who Adam realized was still young at 22, young enough to be cowed by her aunt's authority, ducked her head in embarrassment as she arranged her hair, pushing the loosened tendrils back. Adam had stood and Sylvia said goodnight to him and gone into the house, blushing at being caught in his arms. It was then, after Sylvia had left, that Adam told Aunt Polly that he was going to marry Sylvia and that the sooner she accepted that fact, the better off they all would be. Adam had leaned down and picked up his hat off the swing, told Aunt Polly goodnight, and stalked down the walk to his waiting horse.

"You're taking advantage of her," Polly called out. "I won't allow it."

"What do you mean by that?" Adam turned. He was already angry and it occurred to him that maybe Aunt Polly was trying to provoke him into answering cruelly or roughly; then she would have ammunition to use against him. Adam had once, while waiting on the porch to take Sylvia to a fall harvest dance, overheard her telling Sylvia that Adam Cartwright wasn't good enough for her—he was nothing more than a crude cowboy—an education didn't change anything-and that should she marry him, he would wrestle her into submission in their bed as he did a calf for branding. That same feeling, the rage that had filled him then filled him again and he fought to control himself.

"Sylvia is still grieving over the loss of her fiancé; it's only been five months. She's young and vulnerable and you with your dark looks and wealth, well, you're just dangling all that in front of her nose. But I see through you. I've noticed that at church all the women seem smitten by you, you and your charming smile and winning ways. You tip your hat to them, both young and old and the women practically wet themselves. I have to admit that I find you charming as well—or at least I used to, but I fear for my niece. You'll just use her for your pleasure and toss her aside as you would the core of an apple after you've eaten all the fruit. You'll hurt her—I know it."

Adam appraised the woman on the porch. She was stout and none too pretty. Her hair was streaked with gray and her skin was pasty but he imagined that in her youth, she was attractive. And yet she remained single and she spoke to him in a manner that no well-raised woman would. Perhaps it was her protective nature coming out or—and it suddenly dawned on him that Aunt Polly may have made a mistake, or what she considered a mistake—early in her life and she feared that Sylvia was making the same one. Aunt Polly may have been swayed to surrender herself to a charming bounder who had used her and then left her. It was a possibility and Adam found his anger with her easing somewhat.

"You don't know that," He said softly, "and besides, you're wrong. I know Sylvia is young and hasn't much experience with men or actually, much else in life except her lost love. But as I said, I'm going to marry her and then I can take care of her and make certain that nothing ever hurts her again." Aunt Polly started to speak but Adam cut her off. "Yes, I know it's quixotic of me—foolish to think that such a thing can be done and maybe it can't but I'll do my damned best to see that her life is a happy one and that she has everything she needs or wants. Please don't make us opponents—we both love Sylvia and I'm sure you want what's best for her as well and you don't think that's me and maybe I'm not, but do I love her and sometimes that's all that's needed, for a person to be treated with love."

Sylvia's aunt stood open-mouthed, saying nothing. Adam put on his hat and tipped it goodnight to her, untied his horse and mounted while she watched from the porch. He looked up and Sylvia stood at her window looking down on him. He smiled up at her and she smiled down at him. Adam sighed; he hated to leave her and it was becoming more and more difficult to do so. But after that night, Aunt Polly had remained aloof and although she often checked on them by pulling the front curtain aside and seeing them on the front porch swing, she never chastised Adam again but she was also never happy to see him at her front door.

And now Sylvia was asking him to allow her Aunt Polly to speak unhindered; for her sake, for Sylvia's sake, he agreed. Even before they reached the front door, it opened and Aunt Polly stood framed by the doorway. She was obviously upset, so upset she sputtered.

"You, you…" She couldn't get out what she wanted to call Adam. "Sylvia, come inside! I have a few things to say to your young man about bringing you home after dark and worrying me so that I almost went for the sheriff." Sylvia didn't move. "Get in, child. Can't you see that he's compromised you! He's ruined you, if not in body, in reputation! God only knows who else had seen the two of you together this late at night and I've been sick with worry! Sick! Oh," Aunt Polly grabbed the door frame and Adam rushed to her, holding her up and helping her into the house and onto the settee.

"Let me be, young man," Aunt Polly said, as she fell back against the cushions. "Take your hands off me and leave my house."

Adam stood up, determined not to respond but he didn't leave.

"I said for you to leave…"

"Aunt Polly," Sylvia said as she came from the kitchen with a wet cloth, "put this on your forehead." She placed the folded cloth on her aunt's forehead and her aunt reached up and held it there, closing her eyes.

"I've been so worried—it's so late and you left early this afternoon. I haven't seen you practically all day and then it became later and later and you didn't come home…I was afraid something had happened to you or that he…"

Sylvia sat down beside her aunt and held her free hand, chafing her wrist. "Aunt Polly, I'm sorry I worried you. I've been selfish and only thinking of myself because, well…" Sylvia looked to Adam and smiled. "Aunt Polly, Adam and I are married."

"What? What? Oh my Lord—no." Aunt Polly's head dropped back against the cushions and pillows behind her and squeezed Sylva's hand. "My salts…my salts…"

Sylvia dropped her aunt's hand and went to the side table and opened the drawer, fetching a bottle back to her aunt. She pulled out the cork and placed the bottle near her aunt's nose. Aunt Polly, with a sudden gasp and a jerk of her head, revived.

"You've married him—that…that…oh, how could you?"

"Because I love him."

Adam became self-conscious at the raw emotion in Sylvia's voice, if he had ever doubted she loved him, that simple statement to her aunt vanquished it.

"I don't know what I'll tell your parents," Aunt Polly said, sitting up and in obvious distress. "I was supposed to take care of you and this is what happened. What am I going to tell them?"

Sylvia laughed, a delighted laugh. "Oh, Aunt Polly, I'll tell them. I'll let them know how happy I am and all will be well. You'll see." Sylvia stood up. "Now I have to pack a few things—Adam and I have yet to tell his family and by the time we get there, well, it'll be so late that we'll be…well," she looked at Adam and blushed. "It'll be our wedding night." Sylvia kissed her aunt's cheek. "Be happy for me, Auntie. Oh, please! I want to be with my husband and not have to worry about anyone else. Tell me you're happy for me." Sylvia waited, her young, lovely face showing her anticipation.

Her aunt smiled and patted her hand. "Yes, I'm happy if you are." She was unconvincing.

"Oh, I am, I am." Sylvia laughed lightly. "Oh, Aunt Polly, I'm so very happy!"

"Then go pack what you need for the time. Go on, child."

Sylvia rose from the settee and smiling at Adam first, lightly took the stairs to her room leaving Adam and Aunt Polly alone. Adam shifted his stance. He felt awkward but she hadn't yet invited him to sit.

"You haven't said anything," Aunt Polly said.

"Sylvia asked me not to. She worried about what I would say if you, well, with what you said to her, I probably would have made things worse. I do love her, you know."

"Yes, I'm sure you do. What man in your situation wouldn't?"

"Exactly what do you mean by that?"

Polly noticed how tense Adam was. _Like a cougar preparing to pounce._ "I think you know exactly what I mean. Sylvia's young, so easy to manipulate. She's told me all about your son—but you know that. You need a mother for him and who better than Sylvia who thinks the world of you. At least she does so far."

A sardonic smile played about Adam's mouth. "You think she won't love me for long, is that it?"

"Yes, that's it and I'll welcome her back unless she chooses to return to her parents first."

"What makes you think she'll leave me?"

"Because you're a man just like all men. You'll use her to satisfy yourself and then expect her to love your child and to oversee your house and everything else while your life remains unchanged except that now you don't have to pay for a woman because you own her the same way you own your horse and your cattle. It doesn't take long for a woman with any brains to figure that out. And you'll expect her to give you more children until her beauty is ruined and her body is so beaten up by child-bearing that she finally dies and considers it an escape."

"You're wrong. Sylvia will have the happiest life I can give her. That's not how a woman's life has to be and it won't be hers."

Aunt Polly rose from the settee. "I'll go upstairs to tell her goodbye. I don't think I can bear to see you take her away, especially knowing what waits for her tonight. I don't curse, Mr. Cartwright, but I can think of nothing else to say to you but this: if you harm Sylvia, may your soul be damned to eternal hellfire." Polly turned on her heel and Adam watched her heavily trudge up the stairs.

He sighed with relief. Aunt Polly was gone and now all he had to do was wait for Sylvia and they could start their life together as husband and wife. And he thought about tonight and the reality hit him fully as he heated up; tonight he would know Sylvia. After waiting so long, he would finally be able to have his body's desire sated.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Adam slept fitfully. Dreams plagued him-unpleasant dreams. That night he dreamed he was riding his horse in the dark—it was night, an endless night it seemed, and he was looking for Sylvia. His horse stumbled over roots and he had trouble keeping his balance. But he knew Sylvia was somewhere in the pine forest and he called out for her repeatedly. He would stop his horse, barely breathing, and listen but she didn't answer. And he was filled with terror that she was lost forever.

He woke up with a gasp and glanced to his side, his heart thumping. Sylvia slept calmly beside him. His breathing clamed as he watched her sleep, her face pure and clean like a child's, her dark curls on the pillow. But she was no child—she had shown him that as they had consummated their marriage. Sylvia surprised him with her boldness and her desires, surprised him and pleased him, and she had fallen asleep in his arms. As Adam held her, tears snaked down the sides of his face. _Damn fool. Sentimental, sappy, damn fool. A woman loves you and that emasculates you at the same time; you turn into a weeping, mawkish idiot_. But he was happy. He now knew what pure happiness was and then he became sad because in the morning, life would return to what it had been, with all the problems and conflicts, struggles that were always there. But he hoped that they could keep their marriage bed a type of refuge—a place of both physical and emotional joy.

Just the sight of Sylvia's face and her round arm that was over the blanket made Adam want to wake her, to pull her to him and kiss her yielding white flesh, to run his lips down her neck and to enjoy the lushness of her body but they hadn't fallen asleep until early morning so he didn't—just watched her sleep and listened to the soft sip of her breath.

Adam sighed and stared at the ceiling. It would be another two hours before the sun began to rise, before the sky outside the bedroom window would become lighter and the air warmer. He thought back to the previous night, to just a few hours ago when he had brought Sylvia home. His father had been waiting, pacing from the look of things, and his relief at seeing them was palpable.

"Thank God. It's almost midnight and I was…" Then Ben noticed that Sylvia was with Adam and that he held a large satchel. "What's going on? Has there been a problem with Sylvia's aunt?" Ben had searched Adam's face.

"No. Sylvia's my wife. We were married this evening by Reverend Cleary. Mrs. Cleary insisted on a small celebration afterwards—not much just…"

"Married? You're married?"

"Yes, and it's late. As you said, it's almost midnight. I'll answer any questions in the morning. Is Ezra all right?"

"He's fine—asleep. I need to know some things, Adam and they won't wait until the morning."

"Well, they're going to have to. Goodnight, Pa."

"Adam," Sylvia said, "I can find my way upstairs. Perhaps you should talk to your father."

"I will. In the morning. Let's go upstairs." And Adam, taking Sylvia's hand, took his young bride up the stairs to the darkness of his bedroom.

Adam filled with heat as he remembered their caresses, their ultimate joining and how he had repeated over and over that he loved her. He glanced at Sylvia again and fought with himself not to wake her. Adam sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He knew he wouldn't sleep and felt his stomach gnawing. They hadn't eaten since their picnic. Adam looked back at Sylvia and smiled; he'd have Hop Sing put her breakfast on a tray and he would bring it up to her and she wouldn't have to leave the bed. He slipped his feet into the leather slippers and pulled on his robe that hung on a bedpost. He opened the door and went downstairs to the kitchen.

The room was still warm from the stove. Adam flipped open the iron latch and put in some firewood and balled up the old newspapers they kept in the wood box and lit the stove. Just as he filled the coffeepot with water, Adam heard a noise behind him and turned; it was his father.

"Up early, aren't you, Pa?" Adam opened the coffee canister, spooned coffee beans into the grinder and turned the handle.

"I couldn't sleep. I thought I may as well get up." Ben pulled two cups and saucers out of the cupboard and sat down at the small kitchen table after he had placed a cup on a saucer in front of the chair Adam would use. He rubbed above his eyes; a small ache throbbed behind them and he knew it would probably develop into a headache.

Adam sat down to wait for the coffee and using two fingers, spun the cup on the saucer. "Well, I said I'd fill you in this morning—do you want to hear?"

"You took Sylvia out on a picnic and when you returned after being gone over eight hours, you two were married. Isn't that it?"

"Yes, that's basically it. We talked and walked the countryside until it was evening and then we decided to marry—that day."

"She's a lovely girl. I'm happy for you." Ben looked at Adam and Adam lifted his head, waiting for the question he knew was coming. "Where did you get a ring?"

"I didn't have one but I have the ring you bought my mother—the sapphire ring. You had always said that it was more valuable than the gold wedding band my mother wore. I gave it to Sylvia as a wedding ring."

"I gave it to you to give to the woman you loved. I suppose you held on to it long enough."

Adam smiled. "It fit Sylvia as if it was made for her."

"Well, that's good." Ben sighed. "You've thrown a lot at me in a short time; not only do I have a grandson but I have a daughter-in-law as well. What did Sylvia's aunt say? I'm assuming you told her."

"We told her. She wasn't pleased. She's not too fond of me, thinks I'm just using Sylvia and I can understand why she might think that but I'm not. Sylvia and I talked about Ezra and about his dubious paternity but she didn't care. She said she'd be glad to be his mother."

"You can't keep mulling it over, Adam—about whether or not Ezra is yours. You need to put all that out of your mind because you'll never know for certainty. Just start thinking of him as your son and call him that—your son."

Adam chuckled. "That's what Sylvia said, that I need to accept him as my son and I do. I decided yesterday that Ezra was my son although I would have liked to name him myself—I wouldn't have chosen Thomas as his middle name."

"That is unfortunate but it's a nice name." Ben smiled and Adam fetched the coffee pot from the stove top. He poured two steaming cups of coffee and father and son sat and drank their coffee. "You know what would hit the spot right now?"

"A splash of whiskey? A little early for that isn't it, Pa?"

"No. Some of Hop Sing's almond cookies." Ben rose and opened the top of the cookie jar. The sweet smell of vanilla and almond wafted out. Ben took the cookie jar to the table and sat it on the side. "A full jar. I guess Hop Sing wants to have enough ammunition with a child in the house. Ezra can gum some of these just fine. Have some." Ben tilted the jar and Adam reached in and took a handful of cookies.

He bit one and the sweetness exploded on his tongue. "These always remind me of my childhood and how Hop Sing would feed me these when I was upset or had to sit at the table and help Hoss with his school work. I would bribe Hoss with these."

Ben and Adam laughed and then continued to quietly talk about the ranch and about Sylvia, Ezra and Fiona staying at the Ponderosa until Adam built their house. And it was decided that they would. They would stay, all of them.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

When night fell over the Ponderosa and Sylvia lay cradled within his arms, Adam was happiest. Their own house was almost finished, Sylvia's parents had already visited and left, he and Sylvia's Aunt Polly had managed to peacefully coexist for the brief time, and Fiona and Sylvia were getting along well despite a rocky beginning.

But Sylvia, once she was ensconced as the mistress of the house, wasn't certain how she should treat Fiona. Sylvia had never really assumed any authority over anyone before as the only hired help her family had ever had was their cook, Mrs. Dancey, who was a friendly, happy woman who sang as she hacked a chicken into many pieces. Mrs. Dancey reigned supreme in her kitchen kingdom, taking orders from no one. The only other person was Sam Beal, the man who took care of their two horses and who also maintained the buggy and any small repairs about the place. Since Sylvia felt inept in caring for a child, having never had any younger brothers or sisters or even really been around infants, Sylvia was relieved Fiona was there. Nevertheless, Sylvia felt a bit humiliated when she struggled even with changing the child.

"That's not how you do it," Fiona had said, taking over the changing of Ezra. Fiona accomplished it with ease. Sylvia also watched while Fiona had bathed him. "He doesn't like the water on his face and you must be careful not to get the soap in his eyes or mouth. But I sing to him and usually he's so taken by that, he's easier to bathe." Sylvia had stood by while Fiona sang a little ditty and Ezra grinned, splashing up water and laughing. Sylvia felt even worse—Fiona's voice was light and lilting and Sylvia knew she had no voice—she often just mouthed the words to a hymn if the range was too difficult for her.

A few nights after becoming Mrs. Cartwright, Sylvia had complained to Adam about how Fiona behaved in a superior manner toward her. Adam tried to brush off her complaints, pulling her down to him but she shrugged of his hands. He released her and she sat up beside him.

"I'm serious, Adam. Fiona doesn't seem to like me very much. It's a problem."

Adam chuckled. "I don't happen to think it is a problem. For one thing, as long as she likes Ezra—and she seems to love him—what does it matter? She isn't here to be your friend or anything else but to take care of him. That leaves you free to enjoy Ezra without having the trials. And just what does she do that makes you think she doesn't like you?" He reached up and pushed some loose hair off her face.

"I don't know…it's just her attitude."

"Her attitude." Adam made a dismissive sound. "Now you sound like my Pa when I was about thirteen; he disliked my attitude around here; especially toward Joe's mother. Fiona is young and all young people have "attitude' issues. Are you sure that it's not you who just doesn't like her?"

"Why wouldn't I like her?" Sylvia hadn't expected to be put on the defensive.

"For the reasons you just gave me. Well? Do you dislike her?"

"Well…what if I don't like her? She makes me feel stupid. She can do just about everything better than I can except needlework," Sylvia said sarcastically, "and heaven knows what a valuable talent being able to stitch a sampler that says 'God Bless Our Home' and such is but it doesn't help in raising a child. I don't even know how to darn but Fiona does; she even has a 'darning egg'—I had never even heard of one! After Ezra's in bed Fiona mends Hoss' socks. She fixed a tear in one of your father's shirts so well you'd never known it had been damaged and she sewed two buttons back on Joe's shirt just tonight. She even knows how to cook better than I do."

Adam hated to acknowledge it but Sylvia was correct; there weren't many domestic chores she could accomplish. A few weeks earlier, Hop Sing had to stay in Chinatown with his sick uncle for a few days and Fiona had taken over the cooking. The fare had been simple but filling and delicious. Sylvia attempted breakfast one morning but the toast was not only cold but burned to charcoal in spots, the scrambled eggs were like rubber and also cold and the coffee had been so strong and bitter that even Ben couldn't find anything kind to say about it. Adam smiled gently at his wife, reached up and pulled her down to him. "I know one thing you can do better than her, better than anyone I've ever known. Now, put all your troubles away for the night and show me you love me and I'll show you how much I adore you." He pulled her closer and then pulling Sylvia under him, he kissed her mouth. Sylvia found she no longer wanted to talk and tried desperately to think only of her husband—trying to shove thoughts about babies and food and all her shortcomings out of her mind and finally, as Adam's hand began to slide up under her gown, Sylvia thought of nothing but him.

But now, at almost a year old, Ezra was walking, albeit none too steadily and had to be constantly watched. Nevertheless, life had taken on a sense of calm as far as Adam was concerned. And Adam loved Sylvia more every day.

But it would have been impossible for Adam not to love her; Sylvia was kind to Fiona despite the girl's headstrong ways, supportive of Adam in his undertaking of building the house, a wonderful, loving mother to Ezra and although Ben intimidated her, she unknowingly won him over the first time she kissed him on the cheek goodnight. Hoss called Sylvia "Little Sis," and Joe and she often shared talks where she gave him advice from the female's point of view on matters of the heart. Joe was surprised that women were as controlling and plotting as she told him but he also told her that she only confirmed what he had always suspected. "And don't you dare tell Adam what I told you about women and their machinations," Sylvia had said to Joe. "I prefer he remain ignorant." Joe had giggled and Adam had glanced over at the two of them. He wasn't sure he liked their friendship as they were more like partners in crime than anything else. And looking at the two of them together, Adam realized that Joe and Sylvia were closer in age than she was to him and when he saw them talking and laughing, the realization of how tenderly young Sylvia was hit home and made him doubt his choice of wife; Adam loved her-almost desperately at moments-but Adam considered that their marriage may not have been in her best interest. At times she even looked unhappy although despite his asking her, she never confessed to being so.

When Sylvia's parents had arrived in Virginia City, Adam and Sylvia were there to meet them along with Aunt Polly who had walked to the depot from her house. Sylvia had written her parents about her marriage and told them of her new infant son and how happy she was. But before the letter had reached them, they had wired that they were coming to Nevada and would be staying with Polly.

"I'm certain Aunt Polly wired them," Sylvia had said one morning at breakfast as she read the telegram from her parents that Hoss had brought in from town.

"We can put them up here," Ben said. "Adam's room is empty now that you two've taken the larger one next to it."

"Well, Aunt Polly is my father's sister and they were always close; she often stayed with us in McKeesport and she and my mother were friends. Once, I don't know exactly what it was, but Aunt Polly showed up—she was so beautiful when she was younger—I still remember how she looked-and she stayed with us for almost a year. Something had happened, I don't know what, but I knew it was bad. I liked to imagine it was a broken love affair but I was just a girl. I really don't know. Anyway, I'm sure Aunt Polly wants them to stay with her to repay their hospitality although she actually already did by taking me in for so long."

There had been a sudden clattering in the kitchen and the sound of broken china. Hop Sing's voice and Fiona's rose in argumentation. Hop Sing, as he always did when he was upset, chastised in his native Cantonese. "And don't talk' to me in no foreign tongue," Fiona said sharply and Ezra began to wail.

Sylvia pushed her chair back. "I'll go see what the problem is."

Ben rose from his chair. "Now, Sylvia, a word to the wise. Fiona and Hop Sing are going to have to work things out between them. I have a feeling that this power struggle may take a while to be resolved."

"That may be…" Sylvia was never sure what to call her father-in-law so she avoided calling him anything despite the fact that Adam encouraged her to call him father, and then grinning, he suggested she call him Pa. Nevertheless, she wasn't comfortable enough yet. "But I don't want Ezra caught in the middle. They both seem to argue over what to do for him—what's the right thing to do-all the time. Now if you'll excuse me."

Sylvia walked in the kitchen and Hop Sing was gesticulating with a knife in his hand and Fiona's finger with which she was threatening him seemed just as deadly. Ezra who had been confined to his high chair that was pushed up to the table, was crying, cereal smeared on his face, on the napkin that served as a bib and on the table top. A shattered bowl lay in pieces on the floor. Sylvia pulled the chair away slightly from the table and then, speaking calmly to Ezra, Sylvia picked him up, pulling away the napkin and using the clean side to wipe the cereal grains off his face. Ezra stopped crying, sniffling slightly and then smiling, patted her cheeks leaving cereal residue.

"Oh, Miss," Fiona said, turning from Hop Sing and putting out her arms. "I'll take him."

"That's all right," Sylvia said. "You and Hop Sing continue your war. I'll wash him and change him—he's wet." She swept out of the kitchen, through the dining area and up the stairs, kissing Ezra's head covered with the downy black curls. She had grown to love him and now she ached for another child—a child of hers and Adam's.

Once she had taken Ezra to the nursery, she had to wrestle him to lie still while she changed his diaper; he always twisted and tried to turn to his belly so that he could crawl off the bed.

"Ezra," she said as she turned him over again. He grunted in frustration and she couldn't help but laugh but the sound caused Ezra to stop and look up at her and he smiled. "Oh, you are a handsome one and you'll be a heart-breaker like your father. He is one, you know. My fear is that he'll break my heart by falling in love with another woman sometime, someone who's more experienced—not only with men but with darling babies like yourself."

Ezra laughed again as he reached up for her nose and tried to grasp it while Sylvia finally pushed the pin through the fabric to secure the diaper. Then she pulled up the pair of water-proof pants that kept any wetness from soaking through. Sylvia had ordered a few pairs from a mail-order catalogue, convincing Adam that it would make life easier for all despite his protestations that they seemed as if they would be uncomfortable. No longer would someone who happened to be holding the child, suddenly find their lap warm and wet and she had added, perhaps he would be more inclined to hold Ezra if he knew his lap or shirt would remain dry. Adam had looked at her sharply but she had said no more and she knew that her criticism had hit home.

In her opinion, Adam needed to spend more time with Ezra by himself, not with either her or Fiona along. He always protested that he was too busy and at the end of a long day, the last thing he wanted to do was take care of a baby. That was why he had hired Fiona, he stated. Sylvia never argued, just said what she thought and Adam was left unsatisfied; he wanted an argument and to know he had won it but Sylvia would never give him one. But one night after Sylvia had heard Ezra crying, she had brought him back to their bed. Fiona was walking the boy who was refusing to sleep and seemed to be crying more in an effort to keep himself awake more than anything else.

"Let me take him from you, Fiona. You get some well-deserved sleep. He has been fussy lately-teething, I'm sure." And for once, Fiona willingly handed Ezra over to Sylvia who took him into the bed with her and Adam.

Adam woke when he heard Sylvia talking to Ezra who wanted to crawl around the bed like a puppy. "What's this?" Adam sat up and Ezra crawled to him and tried to stand by holding onto his father's shoulders. "So you're damned bound and determined that no one will sleep tonight, is that it, son?" Adam grabbed Ezra and lifted him and then sat the child on top of the covers.

"He's kept Fiona up the past few nights so I thought we should let her sleep and handle him ourselves."

"So we're going to be up all night as well? I have to head out early for Genoa tomorrow. I need my sleep."

Sylvia stretched and covering her mouth, she yawned. "Then put him to sleep."

Adam glanced over at his wife then back to his child. "Boy," he said talking to Ezra, "how'd you like a shot of rum in warm milk?"

Sylvia sat up, alarmed. "Adam—you wouldn't!"

Adam laughed deeply. "It would be my first choice for myself. Besides, he may develop a taste-demand a rum toddy every night when he learns to talk. Say 'rum toddy'." Sylvia glowered at him and Adam chuckled at her discomfort. He placed Ezra on the bed and pulled on his robe, took up the child again and sat in an upholstered rocking chair that was in the corner of the large bedroom. It had been the Ponderosa's best guest room, used only by the Senator of Nevada or other visiting dignitaries or prestigious friends but now Adam and Sylvia took it as their room.

Sylvia watched as Adam held Ezra who tried his best to escape with small grunts and other noises of protestation such as his uttering of his first word learned, "No." Then finally, he calmed down in his fathers' arms as they began to rock. Adam hummed. Ezra looked up at the large man who held him and who began to sing a soft song—a lullaby of sorts:

"My Lulu hugged and kissed me,

She wrung my hand and cried,

She said I was the sweetest thing

That ever lived or died.

My Lulu's tall and slender,

My Lulu gal's tall and slim;

But the only thing that satisfies her

Is a good big drink of gin.

My Lulu gal's a daisy,

She wears a big white hat;

I bet your life when I'm in town

The dudes all hit the flat.

I ain't goin' to work on the railroad,

I ain't goin' to lie in jail'

But I'm going down to Cheyenne town

To live with my Lulu gal…

I seen my Lulu in the springtime,

I seen her in the fall;

She wrote me a letter in the winter time,

Says, 'Good-bye, honey,' that's all."

"Well, that's a lovely song to sing a child," Sylvia said with disapproval. She had turned on her side to watch them.

"He's asleep isn't he? Besides it's never too early for him to learn about women." Adam stood up and carried Ezra over to the bed.

"Put him here—beside me," Sylvia said, moving over and Adam came around to her side of the bed and placed the sleeping child next to her. She put her arms around him and his small, dark head rested on her shoulder as he lay within her arm. "He's getting so big." Sylvia looked up at Adam. "Wouldn't it be funny if he grew up as big as Hoss? He does have your family's looks and he may very well…" Sylvia noticed, even in the darkness of the room, that Adam was staring at her with an odd look. "You said that he may be yours—your flesh and blood and the more I see of him, the more I watch how he behaves, how he's as hardheaded and determined as you are, the more certain I am that he's yours."

Adam said nothing, just went around to the other side of the bed and pulled off his robe and slid under the covers. He then leaned over both Sylvia and Ezra, kissing the boy on his forehead and then he bent down and kissed Sylvia. "I hope you're right. But it doesn't matter anymore but…I still hope you're right." He rolled over and adjusted the covers again.

"If I had a son—if when you married me I had a son—a son with, say, Patrick, would you have accepted him as yours?" Adam said nothing but Sylvia knew she had gotten to him with the question. "I think you would have accepted him even though he would have been no blood of yours." There was only silence. Adam had once told her he would never lie to her so to be careful what she asked him. Since he hadn't answered her, Sylvia knew that he hadn't yet an answer for her and a few moments later, she heard Adam's steady breathing which indicated he was asleep. But it was a long while before she slept.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

When Sylvia's parents came to visit, Sylvia was pleased to see that despite her mother's best efforts, she fell in love with Ezra. He was a beautiful, endearing child and although her father was more stand-offish when it came to any of the Cartwrights, Sylvia felt it was more due to Adam already having a child out of wedlock than anything else—that and the fact that Adam had married his daughter and only child.

Sylvia had convinced them to come to dinner along with Aunt Polly; Mr. Matthews was curt yet polite. Mrs. Matthews blushed slightly when Ben took her hand and welcomed her to the Ponderosa.

"My goodness," Mrs. Matthews said, "It's like a party with all the people here." Hoss and Joe wore white shirts and ties and were on their best manners. Adam had wanted to wear an open-necked shirt. Sylvia asked him to please put on a jacket and tie but Adam protested that he hated the things and it was only a casual dinner with family—besides, would her mother be swayed by a tie? "She might be," Sylvia had replied. "I do want her to like you. My father as well. He might resent the fact that you didn't make an effort to impress him."

Adam had stood and looked at Sylvia as she attempted to hook a string of small pearls about her neck. The strand dropped from one hand and she sighed in frustration. She caught the end of the strand again and placed it about her neck. Adam came up behind her. "Let me," he said and took the strand from her and slipped the fishhook clasp shut. "There. Now the pearls are truly beautiful adorning you." He kissed the slope of her right shoulder and then gently turned her to face him. "All right, I'll wear the damn tie and jacket. Just shows how much I love you." And Sylvia couldn't help but smile. Each little victory over his stubbornness was a reason for celebration as far as she was concerned.

The dinner had gone reasonably well. Fiona had fed Ezra early and so Sylvia took her mother and aunt upstairs to the nursery. Both women fawned over the beautiful boy although Aunt Polly was a bit more reserved. Ezra babbled and grabbed at the necklaces and reached for the ear bobs. Fiona stood by, her brow furrowed. "It's time the child should be in bed," she had said. "It won't do for him to be so excited; he hates to go down to sleep as it is." With authority, Fiona took Ezra from the lap of Mrs. Matthews.

"Oh, but, can't I hold him a bit longer. It's been so long since I've held a baby and he's so darling."

"It is late, mother, for a child," Sylvia said. She walked over to Ezra as he stood in his crib where Fiona had put him. She held Ezra's face and kissed his soft pink cheek. "Goodnight, my love," Sylvia whispered to him.

As the three women walked down the stairs, Mrs. Matthews remarked that Fiona was bossy. "You're the lady of the house, Sylvia. Who's she to give orders to you about when the child should be put down? You need to tell her—not her tell you."

"Mother, let things be. Fiona is good to Ezra and loves him and she knows more about babies and their schedules than I do. I would be lost without her. _And she's not as bossy as you are_! And she's right—Ezra hates to give in to sleep and she's with him more than I am and knows the ways to get him to settle in."

"Well, what's to keep you from just firing her and taking over it all yourself? Ezra's not a newborn."

Aunt Polly who was two steps behind them spoke up. "It's him." Sylvia knew that she met Adam. "He doesn't want the child and is happy to turn him over to someone else. No one wants a reminder constantly around of an unfortunate liaison."

Sylvia was about to defend Adam but they were now within hearing of the rest of the party and Adam was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her. But what her Aunt Polly had said stuck in her mind and when all was quiet, the words came back and rolled around in her mind; there had been some truth to it, not necessarily applied to Adam but to her. She had always tried to be honest with herself but she realized that Ezra, as much as she loved the child—and she knew she did—he was the concrete proof that Adam had lain with another woman. Had Adam smiled at Ezra's mother the way he smiled at her, played under the covers with Ann as Adam did with her, teasing her with his mouth and hands? But what was most painful to her was that Adam had shared that intimate moment of pure bliss with Ann and Ezra was proof. Sylvia would try to banish the thoughts, forcing herself to think of something else—anything else but they were always there—always.

The dinner was a success though in that it brought the families together. Mr. Matthews and Ben Cartwright eventually found common ground and both talked mining although Ben talked silver mining and Mr. Matthews talked coal mining but the common thread was the treasures that lay hidden in the bowels of the earth and the efforts man made to extract them and make a profit.

Sylvia had been nervous through the whole meal, eating little. Aunt Polly had been reserved and Adam didn't make any effort to win her over which upset Sylvia.

_"Adam, I've told Aunt Polly so many wonderful things about you." Sylvia had said._

_"Just shows that you shouldn't lie."_

_"That's not funny. Couldn't you have made some effort?"_

_"I refuse to grovel before her," Adam had said in response to Sylvia. She fumed at him as they readied for bed._

_"Well it wouldn't have hurt! I really wanted her to like you. And as for my mother…"_

_"I was nice to your mother. What are you so unhappy about? Everything went fine."_

_"You…you are the most obtuse man! You don't see or understand anything!" Sylvia had said in frustration. She stepped out of her slip and then, pausing, she threw it at Adam's head._

_He caught it and grinning, moved to her and slipped his arms around her, pulling her to him. "Now, Mrs. Cartwright, there's a price to pay for your insolence—I am your lord and master, something which you seem to forget. You're gettin' a bit too saucy, woman." And with that, he swept her up and unceremoniously dropped her on the bed. "Someone needs to put you in your place and I do believe that pleasure falls to me." And Sylvia shuddered with the knowledge of what was to come._

"Well, you know how your father is," Sylvia's mother said to her one afternoon as they sat on her Aunt's porch. Adam had brought her to town to visit her parents while he ran errands for the ranch. "And to be honest, Sylvia, I don't much approve of your marrying a man who is a proven fornicator."

"Mother, I'm sure all men are fornicators if they're given the opportunity—Adam just happened to be undeniably caught. Actually, he could have denied Ezra is his and no one could have argued since Ezra's mother is dead. Adam could easily have left Ezra to those in Placerville and just thrown money at the problem and walked away."

"That may be," Mrs. Matthews said as the warm breeze filled with the scent of sage and pine drifted across them, lifting the small curls stylishly left about her temples, "but there must be gossip in town, especially with the Cartwrights being such a prominent family. I don't like you involved in gossip."

"Mother, Adam and I were in love and had talked marriage, albeit vaguely, way before he even knew about Ezra's existence." She reached out and took her mother's hand in both of hers. "We fell in love quite a while ago."

"Nevertheless, Polly has told me some things about Adam—well, that you married him quickly and without any family around—not yours or his. I expected to find you large with child when I arrived. I'm pleased that you're not."

Sylvia let go of her mother's hand and looked back at the street. There wasn't much traffic at this end of town since there were no businesses, just small houses with well-kept yards full of spring flowers. In the yard of a few houses, a clothesline stood on the side and clothes flapped lazily in the breeze.

"You notice, Sylvia," her mother said, "people only hang out their clean laundry—not their dirty, stained laundry. You need to be careful. Perhaps you, Adam and Ezra should move to McKeesport. Your father can help him to be hired on in the mining offices."

"I don't think so, Mother. Adam would never do that, go from here to a job sitting in an office. And I don't think I'd want him to."

"We don't always get what we want. For example, I wanted you happily married to a wonderful man…"

Sylvia cut off her mother and sat on the edge of the porch swing. "Mother, if that's what you wanted, then you already have it. I am married to a wonderful man and most of the time I am happy." Sylvia stood up and smoothed her skirt. "I'm going to set the table for our lunch. Aunt Polly is making a chicken casserole, my favorite. Maybe Adam will return in time to join us." Sylvia forced a smile and then with a slight flick of her skirts went into the house, leaving her mother shaking her head on the porch. That her daughter was smitten was obvious and that Adam was good to her was also obvious but Polly had told her about the gossip among the quilter's group and the Ladies Church Guild. That Sylvia should in any way be related to a scandal upset her and it upset Polly as well who believed she saw hidden smirks on everyone's face and subtle meaning whenever anyone asked her how she was. Were they asking how she was dealing with her beloved niece who had married the eldest Cartwright, the one who fathered a child out of wedlock with a bar maid? Were they asking if her heart was broken since Adam Cartwright had more than likely just wanted a mother for his child and had chosen the young and impressionable Sylvia Matthews as his bride?

Polly's heart broke for her niece who she saw as foolish, too foolish to see the duplicity behind the handsome face of Adam Cartwright or at least what she believed was duplicity. So now that her brother and his wife were there, she had discussed moving to McKeesport with them and her brother and sister-in-law had agreed; Polly could close up her house and return with them in two days. They would tell Sylvia at lunch.

"Did you have a nice time?" Adam asked as he drove the buggy. It was late afternoon and they had left the city limits by a good five miles. Sylvia had been quiet so far on the drive and that worried Adam; he was afraid she had had a disagreement with her mother and that perhaps he had been the cause and she didn't want to tell him.

"My Aunt is returning to McKeesport with my parents. She's closing up the house tomorrow. They're leaving Friday."

Adam wasn't sorry that her Aunt Polly was leaving with her parents but he was sorry that it upset Sylvia. "I'm sorry, Sylvia." He wanted to touch her or kiss her but somehow he knew that would be the wrong thing to do at the moment. "Would you like to have them over for dinner one more time before they leave? Maybe tomorrow."

Sylvia looked out at the surroundings, the trees and brush, the lush spring grass. Some birds were still chirping and she liked to catch sight of the rabbits or a deer in the pine forest. Adam had once given her a lesson as to which pines were Ponderosa pines, Jeffrey pines and Lodgepole pines by the number of needles and the shape of the pinecones. He also taught her about the Douglas fir, also called a false hemlock, he had added as they walked hand in hand.

"Like what Socrates drank?" she had asked him at the time as she gazed at the tree. They were walking in an area on the west end of the Ponderosa.

Adam had chuckled. "No, not quite."

"He did drink hemlock, didn't he?" Sylvia wondered if she had perhaps confused Socrates with Plutarch or some other ancient personage.

"Yes, he drank hemlock but it was a plant, not a hemlock tree."

"Well, I was right about his dying from drinking hemlock, wasn't I?"

"Yes, you were. Now this," Adam leaned down and picked up a plant that had long leaves that were covered by fuzzy hairs. "These are called Mule's Ears…"

"You know, Adam, sometimes you annoy me."

He stopped examining the plant and looked at her, confused. "Oh, do I? How is that?"

"It's just that you act as if you're so smart and think you know everything and that the rest of us are stupid. I mean about that hemlock remark—you laughed because I didn't know the difference."

"And that made you feel stupid?"

"Yes. Yes, it did." Sylvia jutted her chin in the air. Often she did feel young and sophomoric. Adam was college-educated and had been to New York and New Orleans, San Francisco and many other big cities. He had even been to Europe and seen some of the shows in Paris including one where women danced in a scandalous manner.

"Then I'm sorry for that. I didn't mean to make you feel stupid and I don't think I know everything. Socrates said that 'not knowing anything is the sweetest life,' but he also said, 'always desire to learn something useful.' Contradicts himself, doesn't he. But then he also supposedly said, 'I know I am intelligent because I know that I know nothing.' "

Sylvia narrowed her eyes; he seemed to be smirking a bit. "So are you implying that I must be a genius?"

And Adam roared with laughter and pulled her to him. "And that is why I love you," he said as he held her face in his hands and kissed her cheeks and her forehead before he kissed her mouth. "You are the cleverest woman I know—and the most beautiful."

No matter how upset she became with Adam, all he ever had to do was smile and apologize and kiss her and all was forgiven.

"So, Sylvia? Would you like to have them over again for dinner?" Adam was concerned; his wife was quiet only when she was upset or tired. "There's still time before they leave."

No," she said softly. "They wouldn't have time. They told me at lunch—right in the middle of the chicken casserole." She turned to look at him. "They invited us to go live in McKeesport. My parents both think we should. My father said that he could secure you a job, a well-paying job in one of the offices. We could take Ezra and Fiona if she wants to come with us and start life anew—free of scandal. They believe that I'm considered a fool by the whole of Virginia City for allowing you to take advantage of me." Sylvia wiped away an escaped tear.

"I see," he said quietly. Adam snapped the reins on the horse's back to have it pick up the pace; he looked straight ahead. He wanted to make Sylvia happy but the idea of working in an office all day didn't sit well with him. "Is that what you want? To go back to McKeesport."

"I…I don't know, Adam. Ezra's too young to have scandal touch him but he won't always be. He'll have to know the truth but it will be up to you to tell him before some nasty child in the schoolyard does or after."

Adam took in a deep breath. "I've thought of that—many times. I've also thought of you. I don't give a goddamn what people think of me but now I have you and Ezra to think of and I care about that—I care what people think or might say about the two of you—about your being hurt by a chance comment."

"Adam, are you saying you want to go to McKeesport?" Sylvia was surprised. She had told Adam about what her parents and aunt proposed because she couldn't keep it from him—it screamed to get out—but that didn't mean it was her sentiment.

"I don't know, Sylvia. I just don't know. I have to think before I answer that."

Sylvia slid closer to Adam and slipped her arm through his as they rode along in silence. And as they rode, she silently identified the various trees as they passed, inhaling the fresh, sweet, vanilla odor of the barks of the trees. _So much better than the soot and dirt of McKeesport. _


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Adam had taken Sylvia into town to see her parents and her aunt off. He stood aside allowing his wife to say her goodbyes without his intrusion but he could still hear what they said, how his wife wept as she hugged and kissed her parents goodbye. Sylvia's mother didn't want to let her go, kept holding on to her.

"Come visit—maybe for Christmas," Mrs. Matthews said, holding her daughter by the upper arms.

"Yes, you come see us, Princess," Sylvia's father said kissing her on the cheek. He had already shook Adam's hand farewell. He handed the last of the luggage up to the driver. "Hate this damn, outmoded method of transportation," he mumbled to himself.

"Now come on, Mary," Mr. Matthews said as he took his wife's arm. "We need to board now or that driver will leave without us. He's already taken the horses in hand."

Sylvia stepped back as her parents boarded the stage. Aunt Polly stood beside her niece and wished Sylvia well and told her that it would be nice if the whole family was together again. Polly held no hope for it though because when again offered the reference for a job in McKeesport by Mr. Matthews, Adam had graciously declined but made it clear that he was not unappreciative.

"Aunt Polly, I have half my family here now that I'm married."

"Perhaps so," Polly said as she glanced at Adam who leaned against the corner of the building, waiting, "but things might change. Remember that we love you." She and Sylvia exchanged hugs and kisses on the cheek and then with her brother's assistance, Polly managed to heft her portly frame into the stage.

Sylvia stood on the platform and Adam walked over and slipped his arm protectively around her waist. As the stage pulled away, Sylvia waved at her mother who leaned partway out the window. Sylvia clasped her hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs—her family was leaving and she knew it would be years before she would see them again, if she ever would. Adam gave a small wave as well and they stood and watched until the stagecoach was out of sight and all that was left was the dust from it settling in the street.

"Are you going to be all right?" Adam quietly asked her. "We had talked about going to McKeesport and…"

Sylvia looked up at him. "I know. I'll be fine." She swallowed her sadness and smiled bravely. "Now take me to lunch, husband, as you promised." Sylvia linked her arm in Adam's and they crossed the street to have lunch at the Imperial House.

Hoss drove Fiona to Carson City. She wanted to visit the Catholic Church there as she needed to go to confession, she said. Hoss was a bit confused, asking her if she had committed a crime and if she had, shouldn't she be confessing to the sheriff?

"No," she had told him, "not a crime that man would recognize but God holds us accountable for crimes of the spirit and the heart and I need to confess them and do penance so that I can live with a clean conscience and an unsullied soul." Hoss agreed as he could always find a way to pass the time.

"I hope it's not in drinkin' and carousin' or I'll have another sin on my head," Fiona said.

"You? Why should anythin' I do be put on you?" Hoss was truly taken aback.

"Because I would be the one having led you to the doors of temptation."

Hoss later asked Adam to explain "all that confessin' and stuff. Why's she got to do that, 'specially since she don't do nothin' wrong, leastways that I can see."

"It's part of the religious tenets, a principle of belief," Adam explained. "Sins don't have to be obvious nor do they have to be committed—just thoughts are enough to drive a person to confession."

"Wait. You tellin' me that even if I have a thought that's wrong, that I'm sinnin'?"

"Yes, the thought's as bad as the deed. If you lust in your heart, well, you may as well have jumped on board the woman and ridden her."

His brow furrowed, Hoss considered what Adam had said while Adam watched, amused.

"Don't seem quite right to me," Hoss said, still frowning. "I mean I don't see what a man's secret thoughts are a sin—it ain't as if he's robbed a bank or killed someone. 'Sides, a man can't always control what he thinks."

"Nope," Adam said, "he sure can't. That's why if you follow the principle, you confess to a priest. He forgives you, gives you a penance, you perform it, and then the sins are no longer on your head."

"But…well, say I went to confession, got my penance and soon as I leave the church, I see a pretty woman and I think about what she might look like nekkid. That's another sin. Do I have to turn around and go back and confess that? I mean, I'd probably never make it home iffen I had to do that."

Adam chuckled. "No, you'd save all those sins up until the next time you confess."

"I don't know, Adam. I don't know 'bout all that." Hoss jammed his hands in his pockets. "Fiona, she's such a bitty thing that I can't imagine what kind of sin she's done."

"Well, just take her whenever she wants to go. For Fiona, not confessing on a regular basis is a sin. Now if we're through with your catechism…"

"My what? My catty what?"

"Your catechism, your religious training."

"Oh, is that what it's called?"

"Yes. Now let me get back to my book. I haven't had a chance to read in over a week. This is, or was, the first time I've managed to catch a minute alone." Adam shifted in his chair and reopened his book; he had kept his place with his thumb having closed it when Hoss interrupted him. Without looking up, Adam added, "Thanks for taking Fiona to Carson City. If you hadn't agreed to it, I would have had to carve out the time."

"Yeah, no problem." Hoss left Adam alone but it was too late; Adam couldn't concentrate and kept thinking about sin. Finally he closed the book and looked at the dying embers in the fireplace._ I could use a bit of confession myself—and hope I could be forgiven. But my sins are so deep…'I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me.' But I've also thought that about Ezra—if it were better that he had never been born? May God forgive me for my thoughts_. Adam stood up and left the book on the chair seat. He wanted his wife, to burrow against her and feel her smooth skin and her cool hands stroke his brow. "Oh, Sylvia," he whispered to himself and then went upstairs determined that tomorrow he would be a better man. He would find his forgiveness in her arms and her soft, warm kisses.

Fiona had earlier asked the Pastor Cleary if he could hear her confession but he said that he wasn't able to do that but that he would be glad to counsel her.

"It's not counseling I need, Pastor, it's forgiveness. Can you do that? Can you intervene on my behalf, act as my Father Confessor and forgive me as you did that one time before? I'll gladly do any penance for the sake of my immortal soul."

"I'm sorry, Fiona. I realized after I heard your confession that it was wrong of me—according to our beliefs, you can speak to God yourself and ask him for forgiveness."

Fiona sighed. She had been troubled by her conflicted feelings over Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright. She needed to confess.

"Fiona," Pastor Cleary said, "there's a Catholic Church in Carson City, St. Teresa of Avila. Perhaps one of the Cartwrights will drive you over. It takes a few hours but I think it will be worth it. As your employers they need to see that your spiritual needs are fulfilled as well as what you need for subsistence."

"Thank you, Pastor. I'll ask Mr. Hoss. He brought me in with him and Joseph. I'm to buy a few of my necessaries."

Pastor Cleary walked her to the door of his parsonage office. "Now my wife has made some tea and she has some sweet crackers and she's made me promise to send you to her. She's quite fond of you, you know." He looked at the young girl who smiled sweetly. Fiona Flanagan was a stubborn young girl who had specific ideas about everything but she was a darling child. "Oh, Fiona," he said as she stepped from his office into the parlor, "how are things working out at the Ponderosa?"

"They are working out smoothly. It's a fine family I work for and the wee one is a smart, loving child. I thank you for speaking so well of me that I secured the position."

"My pleasure, Fiona. May God bless you." The pastor closed the door and went back to his sermon for that Sunday. He looked at what he had written and then balled up the paper and dropped it in the wastebasket. He stared at the blank paper and began to write, indicating which words were to be emphasized. "WE are all SINNERS in the eyes of GOD and yet, how many times do we DROP to our knees and BEG Him to FORGIVE us? Do we PILE SIN after SIN on our heads before…" He had reached his stride now and had Fiona and her quest for forgiveness to inspire him.

"Well," Hoss said as he pulled up the buckboard, "that's the church." He pushed the brake and jumped down to help Fiona. He had told her how pretty she looked in her prim, high-necked dress and small straw hat and Fiona had blushed and thanked him.

Hoss placed her on the dirt road. "Thank you, Mr. Hoss."

"Now, Fiona," Hoss said, "this ain't Virginia City. This place is bigger and you need to be careful. This here mission ain't in the best end of town so how long you think you'll be? I don't want you goin' nowhere else."

"I think I should be only about fifteen minutes—no more." She adjusted her hat and her gloves.

"Well then I'll just wait out here for you. They got a real nice confectionary shop on main street here—all fancy and everything and they got a soda bar and the best butterscotch I done ever tasted. And their caramel apples—mmmm-mmmm. I'll treat you." Hoss had been hoping to have enough time to have a beer or two but decided he'd be just as happy with butterscotch or a caramel apple.

"Oh, Mr. Hoss, that would be fine but I've got my own money."

"Now, Fiona," Hoss said putting his hands to his chest, "you let me be the gentleman. I don't hardly get a chance no more since I'm always ridin' herd on them dad-blamed new ranch hands who don't know their asses from….excuse my language, Miss Fiona; sometimes I forget how to treat a lady and I certainly forget how to dad-blamed talk around one—oh, excuse me again, if you would?" Fiona smiled; she was rarely called a lady and rarely had a man stammer foolishly in her presence and it made her bristle with female pride.

"Well, I would consider it an honor," she said, and still smiling, Fiona went through the large double doors of the church.

The inside of the church was open and dark with a few candles burning on the altar. There were statues of the Virgin Mary and elaborately painted crosses on the wall and a statue of St. Francis stood in one corner. _They must be Franciscan Monks_. Above the altar was a hewn cross that over the years and with much polishing glowed like a jewel and the altar itself was covered with an embroidered cloth. Two terracotta candelabras were on the altar, the light from the flames of the tapers reflected in the cross's polished wood. A woman with a lace shawl over her bowed head kneeled in one of the pews, praying. By her clothes, Fiona decided she was Mexican. Ben Cartwright had told her that the reason there was a Catholic Church in Carson City was because of the high Mexican population.

Fiona saw the confessional and went in and could see the shape of the priest through the carved wooden screen. She heard the close of a book and decided that he had been passing the time by reading the Bible.

"Welcome my child," a man's warm voice said. There was a slight French accent to his voice.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been more days than I know since my last confession." Fiona saw the Father make the sign of the cross and say a small prayer and she did as well.

"Well, it's good that you came today. Have you kept up with your rosary?"

"Yes, Father."

"That is good. Now, please tell me what sins lie heavy on your head for one so young."

"Well, Father….I suffer from pride. I was proud to be called a lady just outside a moment ago and I am proud that my charge—I'm a hired nurse to an infant—well, I'm proud that he loves me and looks to me to comfort him over the woman who is his father's wife. I know that's wrong." Fiona waited but there was only silence.

"I also covet the woman's beauty and often wish that I could change places with her and…" Fiona stopped. She knew she should confess her feelings to the priest for there was no other way to achieve forgiveness but she was embarrassed; she had never even said the words aloud to herself. "I covet the Mister. He's a handsome strong man, albeit a sinner. I find…that I have carnal thoughts about him. His child, the one I care for, is out of wedlock and I fear for his soul but that doesn't stop me from desiring him. I know that he would never love me—after all—to him I'm a foolish, young girl and he does adore the Missus, but he…when I see him I wonder what it would be like to have him kiss me and take me to his bed as he does his wife." Fiona felt her suppressed emotions come to the front. "Can I be forgiven for my thoughts of lust and covetousness, Father? I have tried to overcome them but it seems that every day my feeling for the Mister becomes stronger and I fancy that now that I've turned 18 I will be of age to…to…"

"To what, my child? There is no specific age that frees us of the consequences of our sins."

"Yes, Father, I know that. And, Father, I am also guilt of anger—whenever the Missus dismisses me and tends the child herself, I become angry. Ezra, the babe, is not her son and I know he's not mine either but I loved him first and I think I love him more. She angers me when she holds him and when the babe smiles at her and such…oh, Father, I hate her and hope something bad happens to her like a plague or a horse kicking her in the head or such so that she'll be out of the way." Fiona sighed, "I don't really want those things to happen—I just wish she were gone. Oh, Father, I need forgiveness and to never feel these urges for the man again. Please, can you help me? Can you forgive me?"

"My child, forgiveness is given freely due to your contriteness. But what concerns me, child, is that your feelings toward this man will not end and that it will be a constant struggle for you." He saw Fiona drop her head. He knew by her voice that she was just a young girl but he also remembered what it had been like when he was young and hot blood had run through his veins. Even now, at his age, he still had to confess lascivious thoughts to his Father Confessor and when he traveled to hear the confession of the nuns in a nearby convent, they often surprised him with their lustful thought of concupiscence. "You can find forgiveness today but what will happen after you leave this church and find yourself back in the situation? Will you no longer feel the same feelings that now torment you? Of course not. Sin is difficult to overcome and the only person to have done so is Our Mother in Heaven as she was born without original sin unlike the rest of all humanity. Consider Our Mother's purity as you say the stations of the rosary and whenever you feel any carnal thoughts, repeat your rosary ten times as you kneel in submission –you should attempt—not that any of us could ever accomplish it-to emulate The Virgin Mary as she embodies the humility, purity of thought as well as soul, the perfection all humanity seeks in this life.

"But the best road through life is the one that leads us out of temptation and you perhaps should take it but to remind yourself of the goodness of the Rose of God, repeat ten 'Hail Marys' this evening and for nine days hence." There was silence and the priest continued. "Bow your head child and repeat this prayer with me."

Fiona bowed her head and placed her hands in prayer and repeated each line after the priest, "Oh, God, I am very sorry I have sinned against you because you are so good. With your help, I will try not to sin again. Amen."

Fiona waited and then she heard, "I absolve you of your sins."

"Thank you, Father." Fiona stood and stepped out of the confessional. A Mexican man all in white clothes and holding his hat in his hand was waiting a respectful distance from the confessional. Fiona nodded when he bowed his head in acknowledgement. _I suppose sinners come from all types of people and God loves us all_. Fiona suddenly realized that she was again guilty of judging others and stepped into a pew where she dropped to her knees and she prayed for forgiveness. She then rose and stepped outside in the bright sunshine. It hurt her eyes and she blinked until she could focus and there was Hoss Cartwright standing by the buckboard waiting for her.

"How about a strawberry phosphate?" Hoss asked as he helped Fiona up on the seat.

"I've never had one before," Fiona said, straightening her skirt to make room for Hoss.

"Well, you're in for a treat then." He snapped the reins on the horses' backs and turned the buckboard back to the center of town


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Sylvia sighed and lay her head on Adam's bare chest, her arm thrown across.

"Something wrong, Sweetheart?" he asked, his eyes closed in contentment. Sylvia always required being asked before she revealed a problem to him. At one time, out of frustration at trying to "guess" what was bothering her, he had asked why she just wouldn't come out and say what was on her mind but she couldn't really answer him. "I can't guess why you're upset, Sylvia, or if something's wrong—you have to tell me." But he still had to ask her whenever he picked up the subtle signs that she was upset.

"Some members of the Church Ladies Guild came out for a visit today?"

"Oh, and why was that a problem? Did we run out of tea and cakes to feed the old biddies?"

"It's not funny, Adam." She slapped him lightly on the chest.

"Did they tell us not to darken the door of the church again, return our donations? What?"

Sylvia sat up propped on an elbow but Adam didn't open his eyes. He was tired and warm and hoped she would just tell him what was wrong so that he could sleep; he could tell her not to worry about it but knew it wouldn't suffice.

"In a way they were."

"What?" Adam did open his eyes and sit up at that. "What do you mean?"

"You know last week in church they asked for help with the bazaar—helping with quilts and knitting baby blankets, mittens, socks and such, and I volunteered? I know how to crochet so I thought I could help. Well, today Mrs. Burgess, Mrs. Turpin and Mrs. Waverly, they came out and after chatting politely for a while over tea, Mrs. Burgess told me that since we lived so far out, it wasn't necessary for me to come to town Wednesday evenings and help. They appreciated my charitable nature-that's how she put it—my charitable nature—but it wasn't necessary. She claimed it would be a hardship for us."

"I see," Adam said quietly. He wasn't sure how she wanted him to answer but what Mrs. Burgess said made sense to him and he didn't read any subtle negative context in the words. "Well it would be a hardship—it is quite a long ride and while you sat with the Church Guild, probably pricking those lovely fingertips," he said while he took her hand, "for the two hours, I'd have to sit in the Silver Dollar and put away some beers. I might even get roped into a poker game and lose the Ponderosa. And even with the best scenario, we wouldn't get home until after ten at night." He kissed Sylvia's forehead. "Now go to sleep. It's not that awful a thing." He lay back down and pulled her to him again.

"Adam" she said quietly, "they don't want me." Her voice quavered and then broke and she began to cry.

He sighed. All he wanted was to sleep—his body was weary with having worked all day and then he had found his pleasure with her and now he just wanted to sleep, not deal with an emotional scene. "It doesn't matter," Adam said but the anger and frustration knotted in his chest. "And they didn't say they didn't want you—they were being kind and…" Adam held her closer; he couldn't utter what he knew she wouldn't believe and what he wasn't sure he fully believed. "Please, Sylvia, don't let them hurt you. Please—I can't bear it." He kissed the top of her head, the fragrant hair, so soft.

She made an effort to stop crying. Sylvia had told herself she wouldn't, that when she told Adam about what Mrs. Burgess had said to her, she would merely state the words and let Adam arrive at his own conclusions but when he seemed to lack understanding, it was more than she could bear.

"Adam, tell me what you think? Why do you think they don't want me? They don't know me that well and before I married, I worked with the Maidens' League raising money for books for the Indian schools. It's not you because you and I, well, you were squiring me to the dances and everyone talked about our getting married and they approved it. They would ask me if we had set a date yet. It was embarrassing to have them so interested but they were so nice about it and I had no other friends but the other women in the group. And now that I'm married, well, I thought…I thought I would join the guild but they don't want me."

"Sylvia, you're making more out of this then there is. Please, don't let it upset you. If you want, I'll go talk to Pastor Cleary and…"

"Adam, don't you dare!" Sylvia pulled away from him, sitting up. "I didn't tell you so that you'd go do something about it—I just told you because, well, because I tell you almost everything, not so you'd do something about it. I'm not a child."

Adam sat up and ran his hands through his hair. "I don't understand. If you didn't want me to do anything, why tell me at all?"

"Well, because…I just thought you'd want to know."

"Why? If you're going to tell me something that you know will upset me and then keep me from doing anything about it, just don't tell me in the first place." Adam rolled over turning his back to her and pulled the covers up.

"Fine. I won't tell you anything again!" Sylvia made a great show of turning her back to him and pulling at the sheet and blankets to cover herself. She stared at the wall in the dark. She fumed. Marriage wasn't as wonderful as she thought it would be and especially to Adam. He was stubborn, could be snide and bitter and didn't always take her problems seriously. And then there was Ezra. Initially, Adam had told her that whenever he looked at the child, he still thought of the fact that Ann may have tricked him into accepting the child that wasn't his but as time passed, Adam mellowed and he became fonder of the boy and now seemed to think more of Ezra then he did of her—at least sometimes it seemed that way. And Ben, Hoss and Joe fawned over the child as well and all were pleased that Fiona did such a good job taking care of him. Sylvia knew that she couldn't do better than Fiona in tending to the child's needs and that made her jealous—and then she was ashamed of herself for being petty; what did it matter who took the main care of him as long as Ezra was healthy and happy and loved—and there was no doubt that Fiona loved him with a fierceness as well as the whole family. And in the evenings when Adam would dandle Ezra on his knee and sing silly songs to him, Ezra would laugh and Sylvia would smile at the scene. But she always felt a bit left out, especially when he would take Ezra upstairs and had him over to Fiona to put down for the night.

Sylvia felt insecure in her position. Her mother had advised her to let Fiona go and take on her duties as mother, wife and lady of the house but Sylvia knew she wasn't able to; she lacked the knowledge and feared harming Ezra and her marriage to Adam. So she found herself becoming offended by the smallest things and then when Mrs. Burgess rejected her—or what she saw as rejection—she wanted sympathy but Adam's sympathy was inadequate. _He infuriates me. He can say things like that to me and then roll over and go to sleep. And I have even more things I wanted to tell him—tell him about Fiona and the argument we had over Ezra and how Hop Sing asked me to leave the kitchen and how I'm not wanted here at all and now it doesn't even bother him that people from the church don't want me…_

Sylvia wiped away a silent tear when the mattress shifted and she felt Adam's arm go around her and pull her toward him. She shrugged and tried to free herself.

"Just leave me alone," she said and tried to shrug off his arms—she wouldn't give in that easily.

He kissed her neck and whispered that he was sorry. "Let's make-up," Adam said. "I don't want to go to sleep with you angry with me. I'm sorry for what I said. Okay? Forgive me?" He kissed her neck again and she felt his hand begin to pull up the side of her nightgown. He ran his hand up her thigh and she felt the warmth begin to rise within her, to fill her. For her answer, she rolled over in his arms. "You are wonderful," he said, "and I don't tell you that often enough. I'm so used to dealing with men all the time, my family, Hop Sing, the ranch hands, railway men…I forget how to deal with a woman and since you're the most important person in my life, well, I need to remember that you have more delicate sensibilities. I'm sorry for forgetting that. It's just that when you've been hurt, I want to do something about it—I don't like feeling helpless, weak, and so I get angry. I'm not really angry at you—I guess it's with myself." But before she could respond, before she could tell him she understood, his mouth covered hers and she knew she had given in, lost another argument and let him break another barrier. Adam always won but for her, it was such sweet surrender.

Fiona smiled as she watched Ezra toddle after the chickens at the far side of the house, his arms out as he chased them. He laughed as he reached for a chicken which quickly darted away, squawking. The chickens would scatter and then stop and peck again, looking for insects or a stray bit of grain from their earlier feeding by Hop Sing. Some had fluttered to the top rail of the fence and nervously watched. Fiona stood with her hands on the hips and watched the child shriek with joy whenever one of the chickens fluttered. And then she felt a heavy hand clap over her mouth and another around her waist and she was pulled, resisting, a few feet into the shadows of the nearby trees.

The hand was removed and she was spun around to look into the sparkling blue eyes of a slightly familiar, grinning face—and then it came to her. "Darby!"

"I thought it was my little sister on the Ponderosa. Now give me a hug." Fiona hugged her brother Darby who spun her around before planting a kiss on her cheek. "Which one of those rich sons who lord themselves over all us ranch hands put a babe in your belly?"

"None o' them. He's Mister Adam's son—or so they say." Fiona knew she should keep quiet, not let her brother know about Ezra's questionable parentage but she couldn't seem to help herself.

"Oh, you mean his wife's a loose one, is she? The babe looks like the man—he's a son-of-a-bitch with his grand ways, always talking down to us from the back of that long-legged horse-no wonder she's lookin' for a real man who'll do her right. Maybe she'll be spreadin' her legs for me once she gets a look at my handsome face—that is if I ever do anything else but sit on that mangy beast they call a horse and watch them damn cattle to keep the wolves and bears from pullin' 'em down. I'll give her a blue-eyed bastard or two."

Fiona decided not to clarify the point that it was Adam who had fathered the child on another woman before he was married—Darby didn't need to know-better he thought that Sylvia was a whore; it made Fiona feel a bit better but she didn't know why. "What're you doin' here, Darby? I know you, remember? I know, as darlin' as you are to me, that you're up to no good no matter what?"

"Oh, I hired on about four days ago and all I been hearin' from them Cartwrights is to shape up or I'll be receivin' my measly pay and told to shove off."

"Did they ask you about your name, Flanagan? Did they make any connection?" Fiona hoped they hadn't; she loved her brother but knew that he was a thief at heart even though his talents at purloining items had benefitted them as children.

Darby laughed. "Them grand Cartwrights don't even know my name—Christian-given or otherwise. That foreman of theirs, that Reno with his thinkin' he's so splendid, hired me and a few others and they don't give a bloody thruppence what our names are. We've been sleepin' out on the ground and eatin' beans and bread and pissin' and shittin' in the woods—they owe me more'n a dollar a day. I saw you the other day but couldn't be sure it was you so I took off hopin' to have a chance to see if it was you and sure enough, it is. So what're you doin' here if you're not warmin' a Cartwright bed?"

"I'm carin' for the boy." She turned her head to watch Ezra.

"So you went from one bondservant to another, eh? Why you're old enough to be married and to have a few of them puling brats of your own."

"What is it you be wantin', Darby?" Fiona was suspicious; she knew Darby well enough to know that despite his always having looked after her and their younger brother and sisters, Darby thought of Darby first. On their trip over, Darby had stolen chunks of bread from some of the other less alert passengers in the steerage compartment, always sharing with her. Nevertheless she reprimanded him for taking from children and old men and women.

"We've got to live, sister. Take what's given you and don't complain or I'll eat the whole thing myself." And Fiona would silently eat the hard, dry pieces of black bread but they filled her empty belly along with the boiled potatoes and the thin, oily gravy they were served.

"So suspicious, Fiona. All I want is to be reconciled with my sister, my blood." Darby grinned and his blue eyes flashed. He was a handsome, charming man, Fiona had to admit.

"You're a liar, Darby Flanagan," she said. He laughed.

"That I am, sister, that I am." Darby drew in a deep breath and looked at Ezra who was sitting in the dirt, exultant, as he had caught a chicken and now held her by the tail feathers as she squawked loudly and struggled to be released. "Best go see after your charge. Meet me here tomorrow at about this time and I'll tell you what I want."

"I don't know that I can as it's the child's birthday tomorrow and there's to be some festivities. I may be needed inside and there's talk of lanterns being strung out here…"

"I don't care. Meet me here tomorrow at the same time, understand or I'll be knockin' on that grand door and askin' for me sister?"

Fiona considered and then nodded and Darby, grinning again, walked a few feet off and mounted the horse he had tethered to a tree. She watched for a few seconds and then turned and rushed to Ezra, gently detangling the chicken's tail feathers from his fingers as the fowl desperately tried to escape, much to Ezra's protestations. But Fiona was too worried after seeing her brother, too worried to care much about the child's disappointment as the chicken scuttled off. She turned her head as she heard her name being called and picked up Ezra who struggled, reaching out, wanting to get down to the chickens again.

"Fiona!"

Fiona came around the corner, holding Ezra. "You called me?" she asked. It was Mrs. Cartwright, the beautiful Mrs. Cartwright and suddenly all the resentment for every beautiful, well-to-do women whom she had ever seen came back as quickly as her brother had. He had brought back their childhood and the memories of how she and her brother would be sent out to buy a few scraps of meat or some withered, dry potatoes with a few farthings and would come back with a nice piece of brisket and potatoes free from black rot. Their mother never asked, just remarked that God provided. Once Darby had received a sharp smack because he had said that it wasn't God that provided for them, but him and Fiona who did.

"And you best be prayin' for forgiveness and confess your sins to the Father," their mother had scolded, gesticulating with the wooden spoon she had been plying in a pot of cubed potatoes.

"Bollocks!" Darby had said, his face turning red with fury. "Father Brennan can kiss my arse!" And Darby just managed to dart from the kitchen in time to escape an enraged swat with the wooden spoon and an excoriation from his harried mother.

Those days and the memories of her and her brother standing on a street corner, imploring the grand ladies and the wealthy Englishmen for a few ha'pennies or whatever they could spare, came flooding back and her anger rose. Her humiliation at being treated as a mere street urchin and of having to distract the butcher while her brother stole a cut of mutton or beef, filled her fresh. Mrs. Cartwright suddenly made her feel like that child again, the one who had to scrape and bow to the grand British men and women just to be tossed a copper coin to buy the meagre food to fill their bellies to keep them alive to beg again.

"Yes," Sylvia said. "It's time for Ezra's lunch. Oh my goodness, what's he fussing about?" Sylvia went to take Ezra from Fiona but she shifted him in her arms, pulling him away from Sylvia.

"He's just been playin' in the yard and chasin' after the chickens. He even caught one." Fiona pulled a remaining piece of downy feather from between his fingers. She then kissed his small, chubby hand.

"Give him to me and I'll take him in and wash him." Sylvia put out her arms for the child.

"I'll take 'im in," Fiona said and walked past Sylvia who looked surprised that Fiona would defy her.

"Fiona, I said to give him to me."

Fiona stopped even though Ezra was struggling and fussing mightily to be put down. "My goodness," Fiona said as she adjusted her grip on Ezra, "but you have your father in you—you're as single-minded and determined as he is."

Sylvia felt a chill. "You're far too familiar, Fiona." Sylvia stood as straight as she could, expressionless, but her heart was thumping.

"Pardon me, ma'am?" Fiona said the "ma'am" with a slight sneer.

"I said you're too familiar. Mr. Cartwright and I are your employers and you will not speak of either him or me in such terms. You do not know Mr. Cartwright well enough to remark upon his character or personality. If you do so again, I'll…I'm afraid I'll have to let you go. And as far as Ezra, give him to me," Sylvia put out her arms again. "Now. Ezra is not your child, remember? It's just your duty to watch him when I can't."

Fiona handed Ezra to Sylvia and smiled slightly at the trouble Sylvia had controlling the wriggling child who was yowling and trying desperately to get down so that he could continue to chase after the chickens, the few who had come around to the front of the house, scratching for bugs.

"No, ma'am, he's not my child—I know that—but then he's not really yours either, is he?" Fiona saw the stunned look on Sylvia's face and Fiona immediately regretted what she had said, not because her comment had stung Mrs. Cartwright—that was her intent-but because it might result in her firing. And yet, she felt a thrill of exultation; she had finally spoken her mind to Mrs. Cartwright. After all, Mrs. Cartwright was about three years older than she was, not so much older that she should be able to lord a position of authority over Fiona.

While Mrs. Cartwright stood speechless, Fiona turned and quickly went in the house and up the stairs. She knew that Mrs. Cartwright would most surely tell her husband and that Mr. Cartwright would call her to answer for the comment. He would look at Fiona with his dark eyes and then dismiss her with the mouth she longed to feel on her skin. But Fiona was sure that she could put a positive spin on it. Besides, she also knew what he had said when Sylvia had complained about her once before. Fiona had stood by the open door and listened knowing she shouldn't be doing so. But she justified it by thinking that if she was going to be sacked, she wanted to be prepared. "I would think you'd appreciate having someone like Fiona who doesn't drink or curse and who loves Ezra, to take care of him. Think of all the tedious chores in raising a baby she's saved you from doing—and uncomplainingly. Do you really want to be the one to sit up with a fussing baby nights, get up with him at the crack of dawn and change wet diapers and wipe him when he shits in them? And don't give me that look, Sylvia—that's the word that fits best. Most mornings, Fiona's up and feeding Ezra right along with the rest of us eating breakfast and you're still sleeping. Maybe you should count your blessings. Fiona allows you to be a lady of leisure."

Fiona, standing outside, had smiled at that because it was all true. Mrs. Cartwright was spoiled and indulged by her doting husband and not only that, he touched her and kissed her and pleased her in their bed and she still found fault with him on occasion. To Fiona, the Mister was perfect. It was Miss Sylvia who needed to watch her step, not herself.


	21. Chapter 21

_I have been accused twice of hating the Irish-I don't. Actually, Fiona is my favorite character; I feel I know her best. Nevertheless, the claim that I have written in stereotypes is false as many of the traits are based on Frank McCourt's novel **Angela's Ashes** where he describes his family and friends in a boy's life in Ireland (assumed to be semi-autobiographical.) I also saw a movie on HBO where Tommy Lee Jones plays an Irish mad bomber. That doesn't mean the writer, director or Jones hate the Irish. Pernell Roberts played two grand Irish villains, O'Hara in **Cimarron City**, and the megalomaniac O'Reilly in _**The Wild Wild West**_ but that doesn't mean he or anyone else in the show hated the Irish. He also played Pardraic Madigan on **The Big Valley-**a man who was a confused mixture of hate and compassion._

_Sylvia is weak and jealous of Fiona and her ability to handle situations. Everyone in the story-including our darling boy, Adam, has faults and weaknesses. Please, as you read, examine all the characters, all of them as I have tried to make their motivations clear. I must not have been obvious enough_.

**Chapter 21**

Fiona waited. She fed and bathed Ezra early as she usually did and then she went upstairs and rocked him to sleep with a bottle. He rubbed one ear as he nursed at the bottle. "You are a handsome boy," Fiona said smiling down at him. "Such a beauty." In just the three months that she had cared for him, Ezra had grown so much and endeared himself to her far beyond what she would have expected. He moved one small, round leg back and forth as he lay in her arms. "You'll be a handsome heartbreaker like you da. But I suppose that I had best be sure the Missus not hear me. She'll be tellin' me again that I'm too familiar. I say she's not familiar enough." Fiona was still smarting about being treated like a mere servant and being ordered about by the Missus.

There was a slight rap on the nursery door and then it opened and Fiona smiled when Adam Cartwright stuck his head through. She put a finger to her lips to indicate that Ezra was nearly asleep. Adam quietly walked in so as not to disturb Ezra.

"I wanted to see my boy before he's put down for the night." At Adam's voice, Ezra turned his head and opened his heavy eyes. Still sucking on the nipple, he sleepily reached out for his father. Adam took the child's small hand in his and kissed it. Ezra closed his eyes again. "I suppose he's had a busy day,' Adam said as he laid the child's hand back down.

Fiona wondered if Mrs. Cartwright had told him about Fiona being out of line in her opinion, but he didn't seem upset about anything. "Oh, yes," Fiona said. "He's become a chicken wrangler, catchin' 'em with his bare hands. I had to pull the tail feathers from between his fingers." Adam chuckled, never looking up from Ezra's peaceful face. He bent down and kissed the fine, curly black hair that swept about the child's head, caressing it with one hand. Fiona smelled Adam's skin, he was so close. It was obvious he had come straight from the washhouse as his hair was damp. _He smells like a man, like the fresh air and the pines and the ground and of a man's honest work._

Adam stood up. "Goodnight, Fiona." He smiled down again at the child. "He's growing so fast—one year old tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," she said.

"Goodnight, Fiona."

"Oh, sir," Fiona quickly said, "I was wonderin' if you could see to loaning me that book about which you talked the other day—the one about the man on that island all alone except for the heathen. You know, he was visited by cannibals and such."

"Oh, _Robinson Crusoe_."

"Yes, sir, that's the one. Unless of course, the Missus wants to be readin' it; she seemed interested as well." Fiona considered that she would have quite a bit to confess the next time she made it to the mission in Carson City but even with all she had endured in her young life, she was still young and for the very first time, had fallen in love with a man. Being so enamored, although she tried to repress it, she felt that if only she could get Sylvia out of the way—at least in Adam's affections, perhaps he would love her. What she would do if the situation would change in that manner and Adam Cartwright should turn his eye on her, she didn't know—chose not to think that far ahead-but she could still fantasize about him sweeping her up and carrying her to his bed where he would ravish her with his hot mouth and overwhelm her with his strong, muscled body.

Adam laughed. "No, the Missus doesn't care to read it—at least she never expressed that wish to me. It's on the shelf in what used to be my room—down the hall at the end." Adam pointed with his hand in the direction. "After you put Ezra down, help yourself. You're also welcome to any other book you care to read. After you finish, I'd be interested in knowing what you think. There's really no one to talk about books with; Sylvia hasn't read much lately."

Smiling at Fiona and the picture of his handsome son falling asleep, Adam left the room.

Fiona had turned 18 a month ago and hadn't said anything to anyone, but now she was of age and her brother was right. She was old enough to have her own husband and children but after having been around Adam Cartwright, Fiona knew she would have to go far to find a man about whom she would feel the same way. She had initially looked at Joe Cartwright with an eye toward romance-he was handsome and his curly brown hair delighted her along with his ready smile-but although he was Adam Cartwright's brother—half-brother she later found out, they weren't the least alike.

Joe had a volatile temper and his dark moods went deep and yet he was capable of great moods of joy. He laughed often and over what Fiona thought were silly things. Her Mr. Cartwright was a man of deep moods as well and yet, he was calculating and didn't react—he planned. Fiona respected his intelligence but she knew that she was no Sylvia, no Mrs. Cartwright with her seductive ways toward her husband, how she teased him before she went upstairs at night, at least it seemed that way to Fiona the few times she had been downstairs. Fiona knew what it meant when the Missus lightly bit her husband's lower lip on occasion when he kissed her. As far as Fiona was concerned, Sylvia Cartwright was another Whore of Babylon with her swinging hips and silk wraps.

Later, after Ezra had fallen sound asleep and Fiona had put him down in his crib, she decided to get the book. It wasn't that she enjoyed reading, she actually struggled with many words as she never had the luxury of going consistently to school, but Adam held learning at great value so Fiona wanted to appear educated and she was determined to read far better than she did. She took the lamp from the nursery and went down the hall to the room that Adam said was his.

Fiona's heart thumped wildly as she opened the door and stepped inside. She placed the lamp on a desk and then looked around. It was obviously a man's room—a room that had once been a boy's. She looked at the framed paintings on the walls. One was of a clipper ship on the waves and another was of Greek ruins. There was a bronze of a man—who he was supposed to be, she didn't know—on the bookcase.

Fiona raised the wick on the lamp and it illumined the whole room. She ran her hand over the foot board of the bed. Adam Cartwright had slept on it and Fiona shook slightly. She felt as if she was doing something illicit but he had told her to help herself, given her permission to go into the room. Her fingers felt something carved into the wood of the footboard and she looked closer and smiled. The initials, **ASC** were carved into the wood. "Just like a boy—leavin' his mark on everything."

Fiona walked over to the desk and slowly opened a drawer making as little noise as possible. Inside were papers, some with writing and others typed. She picked up a sheet and tried to read it. It looked like some sort of contract so she put it back. She closed the drawer and picked up one the large pieces of rolled paper. She held it up and unrolled it as if it was an ancient scroll and saw that they were plans for a building. There was something beautiful about it—it was so elegantly drawn and orderly. Suddenly there was a hand on the doorknob and the door opened. Sylvia Cartwright stood in the doorway. Fiona let the paper reroll itself and froze, holding it.

"I saw a light under the door. What are you doing in here, Fiona?" Sylvia pulled herself as tall as she could. She didn't feel formidable but tried to appear so but was disappointed that her voice quavered.

"The Mister said that I could borrow that book he was talkin' about the other day—that _Robinson Crusoe_. He told me to help myself to it and any other book that struck my fancy." Fiona put the blueprints back with the other rolls of paper standing by the desk.

"Well, that wasn't it," Sylvia said motioning with her head to the rolls of paper. The place to look is in the bookcase—here." Sylvia stepped further in the room and stood before the bookcase. Allow me to find it for you." Sylvia turned and bent to see the titles. The lit lamp in the hall gave more light through the open bedroom door. She pulled the book out and turned to Fiona who had stepped closer. "Here." Sylvia held out the leather-bound volume.

"Thank you, I'm sure," Fiona said. "I look forward to readin' it. The Mister said that he wants to know what I think of the thing after I'm finished."

Sylvia said nothing, just stood with her hands clasped before her but inside, she was shaking. She wanted to rage and throw things and tell Fiona to leave, to get out of her house—but it wasn't her house and once Adam had told Sylvia when she had voiced a criticism of Fiona that it had been he who hired Fiona and that if circumstances warranted, he would fire her and for Sylvia not to worry about it. Sylvia wanted to tell Adam that she suspected that Fiona was in love with him but she didn't want to make Adam aware; he might be flattered and although he had once laughed when Sylvia had hinted that Fiona probably found him attractive, he had responded that Fiona was a mere child. Sylvia had replied that she was only three years older than Fiona and that he never had any qualms about bedding her. Adam had looked surprised but her comment had heated him and she soon found herself on her back on the bed with her skirts raised and her bare legs spread for his pleasure.

"Thank you for findin' it for me," Fiona said. "I'll be gettin' back to the nursery." Fiona started to leave and then turned back. "My lamp," she said to Sylvia and tucking the book under her arm, Fiona went out holding the lamp she had brought.

Sylvia stood in the darkness of the room breathing the air. She flushed. She had once come in here one afternoon and gone through Adam's things, had seen how as a child he had carved his initials in the bedstead, looked in the half-empty drawers and run her hands though the flannel shirts that were still there. She had opened the drawers of the desk and looked through the items, looked though the scrolls of his blueprints, some of which were for the Ponderosa, handled his pens and rulers because he had used them. All the items seemed to be imbued with his spirit. She had also lain on the bed, being sure to smooth it after she stood up, in order to see what Adam had seen as a young man as he had lain there.

And what stunned Sylvia the most as she recalled what she had done and the reason she had done it, is that Fiona was more than likely doing the same thing for the same reason—she loved Adam.

Fiona was braced, sure she should be dismissed in the morning, going over and over in her mind what she would do, how she would support herself—and how she would despair to be removed form Adam Cartwright. She barely slept, waking many times with an uneasy feeling until she remembered why she was upset. And then she would toss and turn and sleep fitfully for an hour or so until finally, the early morning light came through the window.

Fiona was changing Ezra who pointed at items in the room as he lay on Fiona's bed being diapered, and Fiona said the names of the items. One was lamp and Ezra would babble in his attempts to imitate the words. He said "lamp" reasonably well and as he would be carried along or staggered about in the great room, he would point at every lamp and say the word, or what passed as it. He also pointed to his eye when asked and his nose and his mouth. He often grabbed other people's ears and said the word.

Ben in particular enjoyed the naming game and would take Ezra to the barn and name all the items—a saddle, a bucket, bridle, cow and horse. Ben would let Ezra pet the horses but would shy away at feeding them, hiding his face in his grandfather's shoulder. 'He's a smart child," Ben would say proudly—smart and handsome! What a Cartwright!"

"Yup," Joe had said the first time Ben had bragged on the boy, "a true Cartwright. Just like his uncle Joe, smart and handsome—and charming. You forgot that, Pa."

"Well," Hoss had replied, "if charmin's a requirement to bein' a Cartwright, then you got no right to the name, Joe." Joe had good-naturedly taken the ribbing and gave as good as he got; he told Hoss that if handsome was a requirement, Hoss should forfeit the name Cartwright immediately.

There was a slight knock on the door and then Sylvia walked in; she was dressed with her hair in its usual modest chignon at the nape of her neck. But this morning, she looked careworn with dark circles under her eyes.

"You're up early, Missus," Fiona said as she pinned the napkin closed.

"Yes. I want to feed Ezra his breakfast." Sylvia stood by the bed and smiled down at the boy who pointed at her.

"That's Mrs. Cartwright," Fiona told the child. She turned to Sylvia. "He points at things and I tell him the names." Fiona knew that the insult had hit its mark. "You've never said how you want the babe to address you and I would make no assumption lest it be an insult to you, ma'am."

"Yes, well…" Sylvia bent down and picked up Ezra. He seened heavier, more solid each time she held him and she quickly shifted him to her hip. "I want Ezra to call me Mother as that's what I am. Please refer to me as his mother from now on."

"Whatever you say, ma'am." Fiona stood quietly. "Are you sure you're well?"

"Yes," Sylvia said at the door. "I just didn't sleep well but thank you for asking." Then talking softly to Ezra, Sylvia left the bedroom and Fiona listened until the footsteps disappeared. She wondered if Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright had had an argument last night and that was why she hadn't slept well. Unless he had kept her awake with his desires—but Fiona quickly put that thought from her mind.

Fiona cleaned up the wet diaper and placed it in the bucket of soapy water with the others from the evening before; she would have to wash them and hang them out to dry. Then she sighed; she didn't look forward to Darby coming by and she knew she had to make a point of seeing him alone out of sight of Hoss and Joe who would be hanging the strings of Chinese lanterns. Hop Sing would be busy in the kitchen cooking for the few close friends who had been invited so she didn't have to worry about him and Adam would be out on the property making certain that everything was in order. Fiona checked her appearance in the mirror and then satisfied with her reflection, she went down to breakfast.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Fiona was hanging Ezra's gowns and diapers out on the line when she heard her name; it was her brother. She turned and Darby was at the tree line with another man as ill-fit to be a cowhand as Darby was. Fiona looked around. The clothesline was at the back of the house along with the washtub in which she had first scrubbed Ezra's clothes and then the diapers and no one else was around—they were all either out front or in the kitchen. Mrs. Cartwright was spending time with Ezra inside, something she did more and more, playing with him and his toys on the rug in front of the fireplace, the table moved aside to make room.

"Whos' he?" Fiona asked. She didn't like the look of him; he looked mean unlike Darby who had a joy and lightness about himself.

Darby stepped into the open but the other man stayed behind. "That's Judd—you don't need to know more 'bout him. We've been travlin' together for quite a while and got hired on together by the Cratwrights. We both get pissed on by the Cartwrights together and Judd came up with this idea on how to get back some of our own from them."

"Really?" Fiona looked back at the big man standing in the shadows. "And I suppose you and he will be getting' in trouble together too." She studied the stranger's face again; his mouth was cruel. "What do you want, Darby. Tell me and then let me be!"

"Money. We want money my dear, little sister. And the Cartwrights have quite a bit of it. Let them pious God-fearin' Christians share with them what is less well-off. I've worked at eatin' dust and takin' orders from them too long—I want my share of what they have and so does Judd. Let me tell you his idea—and a grand one it is."

"I won't steal from them," Fiona hissed. "For one, it's a safe where they keep their money and they don't share the numbers to open it with me. And for another, they've been good to me and I find I like them. I won't steal from them. Now be off with you, Darby and….him." She motioned toward Judd. "If you want to quit the Cartwrights, then do so but don't involve me."

"Oh, you like them, do you? You're an ignorant girl, Fiona Flanagan. Look at what you're doin'. You're washin' clothes and hangin' them out like any common servant and where is that fine lady of the manor? What is she doin' while your hands are becoming red and worn? Hmmm? Sittin' inside drinkin' sweet tea and takin' it easy."

Fiona glared at Darby who grinned at her. She didn't answer him. After all, what could she say except that Mrs. Cartwright was inside tasting the joys of motherhood but none of the trials? The Missus hadn't even given birth, had been spared that as well. And at night, Mrs. Cartwright tasted the joys of being plowed by her strong husband while Fiona slept alone in her bed, having to diaper and feed Ezra should he awake. It was a double-edged sword. She wanted to be part of the Cartwright family as Hop Sing was but yet, she knew she was only hired help and therefore, couldn't really be part of the family. Darby would scoff if she told him about how Hop Sing actually ran the household and that he was given respect even though he cleaned and cooked and served the food and that she hoped to soon reach the same status. After all, she was a Christian, God-fearing girl and more like the Cartwrights than the Chinese man. But Fiona said nothing.

"All right, sister, if you have qualms about stealin' from them, what about handin' the child over to us?"

"No." Fiona's heart thumped with fear. "What would you want with the child? He's an innocent."

"What do I want with him? You gone daft, girl? He's that Adam Cartwright's son, right?" Fiona nodded. "So I would imagine he'd pay quite a bit of money to get the boy back should someone spirit 'im off."

"No—you leave the child be. If anything happens to him, if anyone takes him, I swear, Darby, that I'll hunt you down and do you up myself!" Fiona was furious, her eyes flashing with anger.

"Don't you threaten me, not your older brother! I rule you, darlin' sis." Darby took a deep breathe to control himself.

"The Devil take you, Darby. You're an evil man."

"The world is evil and a person has to make his way. Well, I am makin' my way in the only way I know." Darby paused. They could both hear horse hooves and then the voices of Hoss and Joe Cartwright welcoming their older brother home. Judd pulled out a gun and cocked the hammer. He stepped forward but said nothing. Fiona noticed that Judd said very little but he saw everything and Fiona had a sudden gut-feeling that he was behind this scheme.

"So, his lord and master is now home leavin' us to tend them stinkin', shittin' cattle. I hate that man—he has everything and shares none with the likes of us." He looked back at Fiona and was pleased that she looked wart. "Okay, forget about handin' over the child. I wouldn't like tendin' to 'im anyway and as you said, he's an innocent. What else do they value? Would they pay to keep their barn from bein' burned?"

"Why can't you just go away, Darby? Just go and leave me be."

Darby looked to Judd who had by this time, seen no immediate threat and holstered his gun but he still was alert. Judd stepped back into the cover of the trees. With new intensity, Darby turned back to Fiona.

"Have you forgotten how the world's treated us, you ignorant girl? The world owes us!" He stood thinking. "What about that wife of his? Think the grand gentleman Adam would pay to get his wife back—unmolested, of course?" Darby smiled knowingly. "If not, maybe he'd soon have another brat he'd have to call his own, one with a touch o' red hair, eh, sister? And wouldn't you then be the grand lady of the house after he tossed her out for bein' roughly used? Maybe you could slip in the bed of that Adam and comfort him by openin' your legs? What do you say, sister?"

"I say no. If it's money you be wantin', I have a few dollars in wages you can have. I pay for nothin' as they give me what I need."

"Do they? Do they give you the same respect they give to everyone else or is it, 'Fiona, do this, do that'? Do they give the same deference to you as they do to the Missus? Or do they just give you more chores until your back is bowed with the heavy loads? You've forgotten how I stole as a child, often receiving nothin' more as way of thanks but a cuff o' the side of the head. I filled your belly with the fruits of my thievery from those what had more than they needed. I fed you—not Mother or Da—me, I kept your belly full and those of the others as a child and what did I get? Sent off to be a bondservant to an old farmer and his wife who gave me a smack with a stick if I didn't jump high enough at their orders. Well, sister, they struck me one too many times and I wrenched the stick from the old man's hands and gave it to him as he had been giving it to me and then I left. You will help me, sister, or we, Judd and me, we'll take the child some night while you're sleepin', while the whole house is sleepin', and should he cry, well, I'll pinch his nose shut and then we'll see what happens. And mind you," Darby said, his voice dropping, "that Judd's a mean one and strong as an ox."

Fiona was frightened but refused to let it show. "He looks about as smart as an ox too." She knew her brother, knew he would more than likely, were he working alone, back down. But he seemed wary of Judd and that put Fiona on edge—Judd was the unknown. All Fiona could think of was Ezra and preventing any harm coming to him. The thought of his being snatched away some afternoon, of being handled roughly by strangers was more than she could bear to consider. "Tell me what you want me to do—just don't harm the babe."

Darby grinned. "I thought you'd come round to our way of thinkin'." Darby nodded to Judd who stepped back out in the open to join them, his hand resting on the handle of his gun, and while Darby told Fiona what she was to do, she kept glancing at the cold eyes of the other man.


	23. Chapter 23

**Thanks for the supportive comments-I appreciate them.**

**Chapter 23**

The day was turning into evening and the Chinese lanterns were lit; it was a beautiful sight, the multi-colored paper shapes illumined against the darkening sky. Fiona had been told earlier that afternoon to put Ezra down for a nap so that he could stay awake longer but like usual, the child fought sleeping; he cried and fussed and rubbed his eyes and called for "papa," a word he now said clearly. Fiona wondered if the child could sense her own nervousness and if it upset him and kept him from settling down.

Nevertheless, Ezra finally exhausted himself and fell asleep and Fiona sat quietly after she put him in his crib, watching him sleep. She comforted herself with the thought that no matter what happened, the child was safe. She had meant what she had told Darby and Judd—she would tell the sheriff about them if they harmed a single silky strand on the babe's head—or she would kill the two men herself. Darby had chuckled but by the look in his sister's eyes, he knew she meant it.

Darkness had fallen and the house was lit by lamps, the fire in the hearth and all the children had been taken home, full of cake and cookies and each given a gift of their own; Ezra's birthday party was now only for adults minus the birthday boy—he had been tucked in for the night.

Early that afternoon, the nearby ranchers and the invited families from town brought their small children who had spent the afternoon playing party games and enjoying the birthday cake and treats Hop Sing had made. Hoss supervised the game of horseshoes and he was accused by some of the boys at helping the girls cheat. "Now there ain't no reason why a gentleman can't allow a lady some liberties with the rules." The boys did not agree.

When his decorated birthday cake was put before him, Ezra had wielded a silver spoon but only banged it on the table top until Sylvia gently took it from him and scooped up a piece of cake and held it out for him to open his mouth. Instead, Ezra grabbed the bowl of the spoon and then ate the crumbs and icing stuck to his fingers, much to everyone's amusement. Ezra smiled at their laughter and his "papa's" kiss on the top of his head.

There were also many gifts of pull-toys, stuffed animals, rag dolls and embroidered baby gowns and knitted socks. At breakfast that morning, Hop Sing had presented a red envelope trimmed in gold paint that contained nine coins. "Lucky number for long life." But the biggest gift Ezra received was a pony that Ben Cartwright had bought for his grandson and had brought home that day before. "I know Ezra's too young to ride but he does love horses. Let me tell you, Adam, I took him for a ride with me the other day and he crowed so happily, well, I knew then that I had bought the right gift." It was a stubby-legged dappled pony with a black mane and tail. Hoss had saddled the pony and supervised the other children in riding "Salty" around the paddock, Hoss having to lead the pony upon occasion. The pony docilely ignored the cries of "Giddy up!" from the children on his back and the jerks on his reins and plodded on unlike many of his ilk who were known for having nasty dispositions and were prone to biting.

The whole time the guests were riding, Ezra fussed and waved his hands in the air and cried "Up! Up!" so eagerly that he lost his precarious balance and dropped to the ground on his bottom. Adam who was grinning, picked up the squirming child who practically fell from his arms as he was so eager for the pony. After the next child, Adam sat his son on the pony's back and Ezra immediately grabbed the pony's mane.

"Easy, easy," Adam said, disentangling his small fingers and placing the child's hands on the saddle horn. Then he nodded to Hoss who started Salty walking while Adam gripped the back of Ezra's clothing and walked alongside.

"Adam, be careful," Sylvia said while she watched. "Don't let him fall."

Fiona herself was anxious but Ezra laughed joyously even though he looked a bit uncertain about his grip on the saddle horn.

But now the families with children had left after the lanterns were lit so that they could see the beauty of the lanterns once they were illumined and the many red and gold colored paper lanterns moved slowly in the breeze making dancing shadows on the ground.

Two days earlier, Hop Sing had gone to Chinatown on the edge of Virginia City and shopped for all the items that were good luck and would ensure a long life for the child whom he had grown to love "Must be red," Hop Sing had insisted. "Gold as well. Hop Sing buy lanterns and make lard cakes with red currants for Ezra's day of birth. Child two years old soon."

Fiona had been puzzled until Adam had explained to her that in China, a baby is one year old at birth so the fact that he had reached two years was a time of great celebration.

"I don't know about that, Mr. Cartwright," Fiona had said, "but I suppose it does no harm to the child to let the man follow what he believes but I would think that as Ezra grows you will tell him about the ungodliness of following superstitions."

"Hop Sing acts from love and although I'm not a superstitious man nor an especially religious one, I see no harm in it either," Adam had said. "Besides, the egg and noodle soup was good, don't you agree?" Hop Sing had insisted that they have noodles for their early lunch, that and sliced eggs floated on top of the broth. Ezra had fed himself, picking up the noodles from the bowl and awkwardly feeding them into his mouth.

"Noodles mean long life and eggs as well. Beginnings are hard so we celebrate," Hops Sing had said as they all slurped up noodles. Fiona ate them less enthusiastically than the others.

"If it's not bein' prying, sir, why did you allow the man to play that game about the child's future?"

Adam laughed. "Oh, the birthday grab. It's harmless. I remember when Hoss turned a year old and according to the prediction, Hoss should have been a hired cook for others as he reached for the spoon and promptly put it in his mouth but now I see that Hop Sing interpreted it wrong; it meant that Hoss would love to eat but we already knew that from the moment he was born. If Ezra becomes a rich man, well, that's fine but since he's set to inherit part of the Ponderosa from me, it really is no news."

"Well, I think it lets in the devil," Fiona had murmured.

Hop Sing had sat Ezra in the middle of the table where he was surrounded by certain objects, a much searched for orange, a stalk of thin celery, a coin, a pencil, an empty pill vial, a cook spoon and a green onion. Each object represented a profession or goal in life.

While Ezra sat in the middle of the table, Adam stood behind Sylvia, his arms about her waist. He almost burst with pride and kissed the back of Sylvia's neck. The child looked around him and went to the pill vial, picking it up as he leaned on one knee. He dropped back down on the table top and examined the vial as he held it. Then Adam went to the table and Era crawled to him and held up the pill vial for his father to see.

"Him be doctor," Hop Sing said, pleased with the child's choice of object.

Adam scooped up his child. "A doctor, huh? Well, that's fine by me. Ezra Cartwright, M.D. has a nice ring to it."

"Yeah, Pa," Joe had said. "Maybe you can get free medical care in your old age now."

"If you don't start being more respectful," Ben said, wagging his finger at Joe, "you might need medical care right now."

Only the five adults without children remained behind and they sat in the great room and Ben poured brandy and Jamaican rum, whatever the preference, for the men and for the ladies, Mrs. Bryce and Mrs. Reynard, he poured a light sherry. Sylvia was about to take a sip from her sherry when Fiona came to the head of the stairwell wearing her robe.

"Sylvia," Adam said quietly to her while the others talked and laughed. "I think Fiona needs you. I'll come up later to say goodnight to Ezra."

"He's so tired," Sylvia said. "Today wore him out –and me-he'll probably be asleep in a few minutes if he isn't already. You don't want to go in and see him if Fiona's in bed; it wouldn't look right and might make her uncomfortable—you know, to have you there while she's in bed."

"Now don't start on her again, Sylvia. I told you, I gave her permission to go in and get any book she wanted—the fact that she was looking at my old blueprints, well, that's simple curiosity. I don't know why it bothers you so much. But," Adam said, "I won't go in later then. Kiss Ezra goodnight for me, would you?"

Sylvia nodded and after placing her sherry on the table, left to go up the stairs to the landing. Adam returned to the conversation with the other men about spring branding and the trouble they'd had all winter with wolves and bears since it had been a hard winter.

"What is it?" Sylvia asked Fiona. "Is something wrong with Ezra?" Fiona looked nervous and anxious and that worried Sylvia. "Is he ill?" Panic began to swell in her breast. She had heard stories of children dying overnight, children who had been perfectly healthy one day and dead the next. She knew that she always jumped to the worst case scenario and Adam had often chastised her about worrying too soon but she couldn't help herself.

"No, nothing like that. His lovey must be outside. He was playing with it early on outside and it must have been forgotten in all the folderol and such. He's fussin' and askin' for the thing. I was wonderin' if you had seen it or brought it in." Ezra's "lovey" was an old unidentifiable stuffed animal of sorts-perhaps a dog or a pig, something with four legs and big ears-one that Mamie had tucked in beside him one night at Cassie's when he had been particularly fussy and it had stayed with the child. He often held it and ran his thumb over the comforting softness as he fell asleep.

"Oh," Sylvia said, relieved. "You go back and I'll look for it outside."

Fiona watched as Sylvia went down the stairs; she wanted to call the woman back, tell her not to go outside but the thought of worse consequences stopped her. Darby had promised that neither he nor Judd would harm the woman as long as she didn't try to escape. "It may take the back o' my hand to convince the bitch that we're serious but other than that—no harm, that is, as long as Adam Cartwright pays the ransom on time. I'm tellin' you now, if he don't pay us within the time we ask, well, Judd and me might as well get somethin' from it and she's a nice-lookin' woman. Judd was just talkin' earlier how nice she'd be to taste."

Fiona watched until Sylvia went out the front door and then she went back to the room, her knees almost giving out on her. She pressed the door closed and leaned against it, regaining her composure. Her head spun and the room seemed to tilt. Ezra was sleeping peacefully and the room was warm and friendly with the child's things on the shelves and his toys filling up a whole chest in the corner. Fiona sat down in the rocking chair and wondered if she would be kept on if Mrs. Cartwright was never returned to them or found alive. It wasn't what she wanted; Fiona truly didn't want to see Mrs. Cartwright hurt despite her own feelings for the Mister. Fiona wanted none of it but she could see no other way to satisfy her brother and his friend's avarice and keep the child safe. Fiona would gladly sacrifice Sylvia to save the babe, sacrifice herself if need be, and if the Missus disappeared forever, well, that would be a shame, surely. Fiona knew that what she had done was wrong and the tears fell down her cheeks. She wondered if Darby and Judd had grabbed Sylvia yet, and when they did, if she would scream for help. Fiona stopped rocking and listened, straining for any sound from outside.

And then it occurred to her that perhaps Darby and his friend Judd weren't waiting outside, had given up on the whole idea. Fiona suddenly decided that it would be such a great relief if they had abandoned the plan. Perhaps her brother had changed his mind-perhaps. If so, then Mrs. Cartwright would soon be back with the dolly that had been intentionally left outside. Fiona barely breathed, expecting to hear Sylvia's tread on the uncarpeted stairs but they didn't come. Fiona kept glancing at the nursery clock and after twenty minutes, Fiona knew that Darby had kept his word. They had stolen away with Sylvia Cartwright and left a note in her place on the front porch as he had said he would. A feeling of dread overwhelmed the girl for she felt that she had damned her soul by being part of it. Even though she had been unwilling, she had been an accomplice to their crime.

"Oh, Holy Mother, help me to do what I must." Fiona covered her face with her hands and noticed how hot and flushed she was and suddenly she was struck with vertigo. Her head spun and she became nauseated; she staggered to the bed and lay down to stave off fainting but the room spun around her. She was truly miserable now in both body and spirit.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

It was almost ten at night and the guests were leaving.

"I looked for Sylvia," Mrs. Bryce said, "to thank her for the lovely time but I haven't see her all evening. I hope she's well. Tell her goodnight for me, will you, Adam?" Mrs. Bryce patted Adam on the arm and his mind raced—he realized that Sylvia had been absent while he was engrossed in discussing breeding stock and the introduction of the Brahman line of cattle by a breeder in South Carolina.

"Yes, I will." Adam said. He helped Mrs. Bryce into her buggy and her husband picked up the reins. Then he stepped back and along with the rest of his family, he waved goodbye to the departing carriage but his mind was on Sylvia.

Earlier that evening, he had looked around the room for her but noted she wasn't there. She had gone out, that he knew, but she must have come in and gone upstairs without his noticing. At one point, he was going to go and check on her; perhaps Ezra had taken ill from all the excitement or she herself felt ill but he had quickly become entangled in another conversation and never had. Still, it was rude of her to not have made her goodbyes before she went upstairs and he found himself annoyed with her lack of manners.

"That was sure a nice party," Hoss said, his hands in his pockets. He grinned widely. There had been good company and an abundance of food—just his type of party.

"Yeah," Joe added, "it was. Hey, Adam, why did Sylvia leave? She sick?"

"I don't know," Adam said. "I'm as interested as you are."

"Now, Adam, don't go flying off the handle," Ben cautioned. "Maybe Ezra became ill—or Fiona or Sylvia herself. I'm sure she had a good reason for leaving."

"I'm going to go see," Adam said and walked into the house and took the stairs two at a time. He pushed open the bedroom door but the room was dark, the bed turned down but undisturbed. Adam walked down the hall to the nursery and lightly knocked but there was no answer. He knocked louder and within a few moments, Fiona stood at the partially-opened door, peering out at him. It was obvious she had been sleeping.

"Mr. Cartwright, anything wrong?" She gripped her nightgown shut at her throat.

"Is Mrs. Cartwright here—in the nursery?"

"No, sir. I would think, seein' the hour that she's in bed?" Fiona's voice quavered with the lie.

"She's not." A panic rose in his chest. "When was the last you saw her?"

"Well, sir, I guess…" Fiona had to pause as the truth almost flew from between her lips but she thought again of Ezra who slept safely in his crib and of Mrs. Cartwright who was spoiled and prissy and so well-loved by the man at her door. "I saw the Missus was when she went outside to look for Ezra's lovey; it must have been left outside."

"Did she bring it to him?"

"No, sir."

"She never brought it in?"

"No, sir. Could be she hurt herself, perhaps."

"Perhaps, but…. I'll check outside. Go back to sleep."

"Can I do anything, sir?"

"Um…no, thank you. Just…I'm sure she's fine," Adam said but he didn't believe it.

Fiona closed the door and pressed her forehead against it. "Oh, my soul is damned and black as pitch," she said to herself. And then she considered if there was penance enough for what she had done and what the Holy Father would say at her next confession, that is if she ever overcame her shame enough to speak of her actions.

"Adam! Pa! Joe! Come look here." Hoss stood holding a lantern and looking down at the ground.

"What is it?" Adam asked, arriving first but his father and Joe were behind him. The all held their lanterns aloft and looked at the ground.

When Sylvia couldn't be found in the house, Adam had searched the barn but all the horses were still in their stalls; she hadn't taken one and gone anywhere. The thought had occurred to Adam that perhaps, for a reason he didn't know, Sylvia had left him. It was then, after calling out for Sylvia, that Ben and his brother came out and fetching lanterns, they searched the yard and were going to check the nearby timber line when Hoss called out.

"Look," Hoss said, holding up Ezra's stuffed toy. "Here's what Sylvia went out to find and look." Bending down, Hoss placed his lantern on the ground and pointed out the scuffed areas in the dirt. "Looks like there was some sort of scuffle here, two sets of men's boots and, well, it looks like these may be Sylvia's. They're small and with the heels and such…" Hoss stood up. He looked to his father and Joe who then looked at Adam who had crouched down to examine the footprints closer.

"Adam," Ben said, "It looks as if maybe, Sylvia…" He noticed how it appeared that Sylvia had been dragged backwards, the heels of her shoes having made deep marks with the heels as if she was off-balance.

"I know what it looks like, Pa. This isn't the first time someone's figured that a Cartwright might be worth something to the rest of us." Adam stood up. "I'm going to saddle my horse and go look for her."

"Now, Adam," Hoss said, "you ain't gonna find no trail this time of night. Hell, I'm the best tracker around—you always said I could track a ghost—but even I couldn't find a trail at night. Where the hell you gonna go? In what direction?"

"I can't just sit here? Who knows what's happening to her right now? What else am I supposed to do—lose my mind with worry?"

"No," Ben said. "You're supposed to be rational. If someone took Sylvia, then she's valuable to them; why else would they take her? We'll just have to wait until morning—at least until first light and then start to look. Joe can ride into town in the morning and tell Roy. He can get up a posse and they can look as well. Besides, we'll probably hear from the…from them."

"Yeah, Adam," Hoss said, "I swear I'll be ready to go at first light. We'll find 'er, all right."

"But I feel so….I'll lose my mind just waiting until morning. I have to look at least around the house some more. Maybe she's lying on the ground somewhere."

Joe, Hoss and Ben looked at one another. "Actually," Ben said, "that's a good idea. Four sides to the house, four if us." He looked at his sons. "I'll go west, you go east," he said to Joe, "north, Adam and Hoss, you take south of the house. Call out if you see anything. Anything."

Adam blew out a deep breath, his heart pounding; at least he was doing something. He would do anything rather than just sit and wait for morning.

There had been enough light from the window on the side of the house so that Sylvia didn't need a lantern to look for Ezra's "lovey." Sylvia expected the toy to be dirty and knew she would only have a chance to shake off any sand before she had to give it to the child so that he would sleep. She smiled thinking of how Ezra's cherubic face looked as he slept, holding his "lovey" to him, clutched under one arm. When she and Adam had taken him to Dr. Martin's for a check-up, Ezra held onto the toy with one hand while he grasped at Adam's shirtfront with the other as he sat in his father's lap. Ezra was leery of the man who was trying to check his ears and eyes and when Adam had to place the child on his back on the examining table, Ezra rebelled, trying mightily to sit up or turn over, even hitting the doctor with the stuffed toy.

Adam had laughed and Dr. Martin had remarked, "He's strong as a bull and just as stubborn! Certainly has a mind of his own." But Sylvia was anxious seeing Ezra upset. Nevertheless, the doctor had remarked that it was god for a child to have a "comfort' toy or a special blanket; it meant that a child could form emotional attachments and at that Sylvia was pleased. And when the examination was over and Ezra pronounced healthy—almost too robust making him a handful, Sylvia took him from Adam's arms and cooed comforting words.

On the dirt outside, Sylvia saw the toy and as she bent down to get it, she felt arms go about her waist and pull her up and back. She cried out in surprise and then a hand clapped over her mouth and although she struggled, tried to pull the hand away from her mouth, she then saw a man in front of her who grabbed her flailing legs. Sylvia managed to free one leg and kick him and the man cursed and then grabbed her leg again and the two carried her off as she struggled. They took her a distance from the house and into the trees and brush, branches scraping her as she resisted. She struggled the whole way, trying to twist out of their grasp.

"Think she'll move like that under a man?" Judd said smiling, slightly out of breath from trying to control her.

"She might just have to be ridden to find out—some broncs are harder to break than others from what little I've seen." Darby laughed. Sylvia noted that he had an Irish accent and she wondered if the two men were hands on the Ponderosa. "But then, bein' married to that Adam, well, I've seen him ride a horse hard—leave it sweatin' and heavin'. She probably thrives on it, would be my guess."

After a bit more distance, the man who had her legs, dropped them and fetching a rope from a horse tied to a low-lying branch, he tied Sylvia's ankles together. He looped the rope and then, after freeing her mouth, they tied her wrists behind her.

"Who are you?" Sylvia asked. She had never known fear before, not real fear but she was truly afraid. "What do you want with me?"

The Irishman spoke. "You're Mrs. Adam Cartwright and your rich-as-Croesus husband is goin' to pay sweetly to get you back. And if he don't, well, I've taken a fancy to you myself." He ran a hand across her cheek and then stepped back and looked at her while the other man held her up and turned her around so that he could look at her.

"You know what, Darby, I'm thinkin' that I hope Cartwright doesn't want her back—I'd like to warm my bed with this one. What a beauty." He stepped closer and Sylvia could smell stale whiskey and tobacco on his breath. He slipped his arms around her waist and as she turned her head to avoid his mouth, he held her chin and kissed her. She thought she would gag on the thickness of his tongue as he shoved it through her lips. Instead, she bit down and he made what passed as a scream and when she released his tongue and he jumped away, he was furious. "You damn bitch! Bite me, will you?" Then he slapped her and Sylvia saw lights explode before her eyes and her cheek stung. "I'll teach you…don't think I've lived this long and had no dealings with women. You need to learn your place." He raised his hand again and Sylvia flinched.

"Judd, she's no good to us broken and we've got to get back to the shack—just wait until later. We can both teach her a thing or two later—at our leisure. Nice and slow."

Judd reluctantly agreed and moved his tongue around in his mouth and then spat out bloody saliva. Sylvia was slung over a saddle with Judd mounting up and sitting behind her. She tried to lift her head as the blood rushing to her head made her dizzy. She heard footsteps and knew that the one called Darby was standing beside the horse on the other side. "You might just as well, relax—you ain't getting' away from us." Sylvia suddenly kicked out with her bound feet and was satisfied when she hit him and heard a "Umf…" Then she felt her skirt and slips pushed up and a hand heavily swat her linen-covered buttocks. She cried out in both surprise and pain at the sting. And then she heard his voice, Judd's voice.

"That would be the second lesson in your education. There'll be more to come, especially if you decide to be a bit rebellious." The men laughed. Then Judd kicked his horse and Sylvia soon felt sick from the jarring. And she was terrified of what was to come.

Despite their searching the grounds of the Ponderosa near the house, nothing more was found that night and finally, they headed in—except for Adam. He sat on the porch, often pacing, hoping that Sylvia would walk up, hoping that she had gone for a stroll and become lost earlier and would soon find her way home. He had seen the heel marks in the dirt, the footprints but he still hoped and every so often he walked around the house and searched more. Calling out into the darkness.

It was before sunrise, the sun just beginning to peek over the eastern horizon that Hoss came out with two mugs of hot, black coffee and handed Adam one.

"Thanks," Adam said. "I saddled the horses. I'm ready when you are."

"Just let me finish this cup. You best drink up too. Oh," Hoss said, reaching into his shirt's chest pocket, "here's a buttered biscuit." He offered the napkin-wrapped biscuit to Adam.

"You eat it," Adam said, sipping his coffee. "I'm not hungry."

Hoss bit into the biscuit. "You gonna wear them clothes?" Adam was still wearing his nicer clothes, a white shirt, and striped trousers from the day before although he had taken off the tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of the shirt.

"Yeah, I'm gonna wear these clothes. All I need is my hat and gun."

Hoss stood and Adam sat on the front porch in silence while Adam willed the sun to rise faster. "What is…" Adam's eyes fell on a large folded piece of paper in the potted rose bush. He rose and picked it up and standing, unfolded it and read. "Goddamn it!" He said.

Hoss downed the last of his coffee and swallowed the last bite of biscuit and walked over. "What is it? Looks like a note."

"It is. It says that they have Sylvia—Mrs. Cartwright—and that they want ten thousand in small bills to have her returned unharmed. Damn it all—they don't say anything else—not where to deliver the money, just for us to wait to hear from them and not to look for her—at least I think it says that; they don't spell very well."

Joe stepped out on the porch pulling on his gloves. "I'm heading out to Virginia City to talk to Roy." Ben stepped out behind Joe.

"Take this note to Roy," Adam said. Joe stepped down and took the note to read.

"What's that?" Ben asked.

"A note from whoever has Sylvia," Joe said handing it to Ben.

"I told him to take it to Roy." Adam said. "And Joe, bring back ten thousand."

"Take it to Roy." Ben handed the note back to Joe who folded it smaller and put it in his pocket. "And stop by the bank and get the money in small bills—like they ask." Ben looked at Adam who was going inside. "Where did you find it?"

"It was here in in the roses. I've been sitting out here most of the night and never saw it. Never saw the goddamn thing."

"Well, I'm heading out." Joe went to the barn to saddle his horse.

Hoss stood with his hands on his hips. "Adam, you ready to go?"

"Let me get my gun and hat. Hoss, get the rifles. I'm going to kill those sons-of-a-bitch if I can."

"Wait," Ben said, "the note says not to look for her. If they see you skulking around wherever they are, they might hurt Sylvia."

"Then we'll just have to make sure they don't see us because I'm not sitting around on my ass and doing nothing. Kiss Ezra for me. And, Pa, keep him safe." Adam walked past his father and into the house.

Ben looked at Hoss; he was obviously worried.

"Don't worry too much, Pa. I'll do the trackin' and keep ahold of Adam; he won't do nothin' stupid. Besides, he ain't Joe."

"I'm depending on you," Ben said, pointing at his son.

Adam came back out buckling his gun belt. "Let's go."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Fiona walked behind Ezra as he toddled around the yard after a ball, picking it up and then throwing it further, chortling with exultation while he practically quivered with delight at his accomplishment. Then, when the ball was too far in one direction, Fiona would pick it up and toss it back towards the center of the yard again. Ben Cartwright sat on the porch watching, a rifle balanced across his thighs. It was almost noon and Ben's thoughts were with his sons and their searches. He had been hesitant to let Ezra play outside but the child was fussy and kept going to the front door and trying to reach the latch so Ben agreed with Fiona that the fresh air and activity would help with the child's pent-up energy. And it pleased him to watch how Ezra had grown and what a bright child he was. _So much like Adam—so beautiful and intelligent._

But Fiona's mind was in turmoil. Earlier that morning, Ben had told her quietly about Mrs. Cartwright's disappearance in the night, she was obviously carried off, and the ransom note left it the rose tree. Therefore, Fiona was not to go out alone with Ezra or even by herself; the men may still be lurking on the property, looking for a chance to up the ante by snatching one or both of them. The idea that whoever it was who took Sylvia might have instead spirited away his grandson made his bowels turn to water. That would have been unbearable.

Earlier that morning about two hours after Adam and Hoss had left, not only Joe, but about six other men came riding into the yard and Ben and Hop Sing went out to meet them. One of them, Fiona discovered as she stood in the open threshold holding Ezra, was the sheriff of Virginia City.

"What direction did Hoss and Adam head?" Sheriff Coffee asked.

"North," Ben replied. "Last night we saw an area in the dirt that indicated a struggle so that's where Hoss started trailing this morning and it led to north of the Ponderosa. Be careful, Roy-please. Remember what the note said. We weren't to call in the law."

"Now I been doing this for a long time, Ben." Roy adjusted himself in the saddle, his horse eager to go. "You and Adam did the right thing by bringing me in. And don't worry—we aren't the cavalry blowing a bugle to say we're coming."

"I know. Just…good luck."

Roy and his posse headed off but Joe hung back. "It'll be okay, Pa. We'll bring Sylvia home all right." Joe winked with assurance and Ben weakly smiled. The Joe kicked his horse and took off.

Ben and Hop Sing stood together and watched the last of the posse's dust settle.

"You come in now, Mr. Cartwright. You not eat breakfast. Must eat something. You come in and Hop Sing fix eggs and you eat. Come in."

Ben sighed and gave Hop Sing a weak smile. Hop Sing wanted him to eat; at least some things stayed the same in any crisis and Hop Sing was an anchor to reality, someone who always sent the message that life must go on and people must survive. And so Ben went in to breakfast. After all, Ben knew that Hop Sing had faced many hardships in his life—famine and near-starvation in China as well as droughts and floods and the loss of many family members before he finally managed passage to America. The small, bandy-legged Chinaman had also survived the trip over in the bowels of a ship while so many of his fellow Chinese had died due to flux among other maladies, their bodies tossed over the side, some before they even took their last breath. If anyone knew about suffering, it was Hop Sing. And if anyone knew about surviving, it was Hop Sing.

"Hellfire," Hoss said as he sat on his horse. He looked out over the stretch of land that had been grazed by cattle just the day before. It contained only scrub and grass. "They come cross here and there ain't no way to find their tracks with all them other tracks here. They're either smart or lucky."

Adam cursed under his breath. Up to that point, although the two riders hadn't been easy to track, they hadn't been impossible to track—until now. "What if we circle around the area and look for tracks going out?"

Hoss looked at his brother. He knew that Adam was upset but that didn't account for his sudden lack of logic and sense. "Adam, them cattle were strung out near a mile. Now how're you gonna find any tracks?"

Adam sat on his horse and pondered the situation. He looked up at the sky. It was about 11:00 in the morning and the tracking had been tedious, Hoss needing to dismount every so often to search through brush for clues as to what direction they had gone. Adam would become impatient, the fear rising in him and the only way he could tamp it down was by going, by doing. He fought the urge to just ride over Hoss and go. But the worst was when he thought about Sylvia and how frightened she must be. Was she wondering why he hadn't found her yet or if he was even looking? Was she even aware that she was being held for a price?

"Hoss," Adam said as they looked out at the vast area, "where do you think they would head? Let's just assume they're familiar with this area—maybe not completely familiar but they had to have a plan as to where to hide out. I mean what's out this way? Two men and a woman, a woman they've abducted. Where would they go?"

Hoss thought. "I s'pose they wouldn't be campin'—they wouldn't want to be out in the open." Suddenly Hoss' head snapped up. "The Morris place. That place's been deserted near 'bout four years now. It's out a little to the east."

"Let's try it." Adam kicked his horse into a lope and he and Hoss headed across the pasture land toward the old long-abandoned house.

The ride to the line shack seemed interminable to Sylvia. Being thrown over the saddle and the motion of the horse made her dizzy and nauseated and when the horse trotted, the pressure against her ribs and abdomen caused her pain. Finally they arrived at a small shack; she had raised her head once the horse had stopped. Judd had climbed down and roughly pulled Sylvia off the saddle and she landed on her feet but her knees buckled underneath her and she would have hit the ground but Judd grabbed her by an arm and pulled her upright.

"Put her inside," Judd told Darby. "Light a fire—it's one of the Cartwright's line shacks so no one should get suspicious with the smoke comin' out of the chimney even if they see us. For all anyone knows, we still work for the Ponderosa."

Sylvia found herself inside a small, well-kept and well-stocked line shack, the canned goods and canisters of coffee, flour, sugar and salt lined up neatly on a shelf to protect the contents from insects and vermin. Sylvia had heard Adam and his father and brothers mention the line shacks, he had even stayed out at them a few nights on occasion, and Adam had explained that since the property was so large, ranch hands checking line would have to stay in one of the line shacks at night since they were so far from the bunkhouse. Once every two months, one of them made the rounds with groceries and restocked the foodstuffs.

Darby had carried her in and placed her on the bottom of the two bunk-beds, rolling her over so that she lay on her stomach, her wrists and ankles still tied. Judd came in and nodded in approval.

"Go take care of the horse, Darby. Don't unsaddle 'em though and keep the bridles on their necks—we may have to leave quickly. I'll start the stove and make some coffee and cook us up a bit of grub."

"Please," Sylvia begged, "will you untie me? I won't run away or anything but my hands are going numb and my wrists hurt—they ache terribly. Please. I don't feel too well. My stomach hurts as well."

"Maybe we should loosen the ropes or somethin'," Darby said.

Judd had walked to the small stove. "Darby, you're a goddamn fool if you believe anything that bitch says. Women are liars—every last blessed one of them from Eve on down. Now go take care of the horses." Darby left and Judd addressed himself to Sylvia as she lay on the bunk. "You may as well relax. We're askin' money for you so if that husband of yours and his family don't pay, for some reason decide you ain't worth it, we may have a little fun with you and it'll be a lot easier if you're tied up." He grinned and then laughed at her expression of fear.

Judd was heating up beans from a can he had opened with a knife when Darby walked in. He looked over at Sylvia who had opened her eyes when the door opened. She was pale—almost as white as the sheet on the bunk.

"Please…," she said, "I really don't…oh, please." She grimaced and tried to roll over to her side but with her arms pulled behind her, she couldn't. She groaned. "God help me…please untie me."

"She been like this the whole time I been gone?" Darby asked. He was worried about her and was glad they hadn't snatched the child; he couldn't have dealt with a fussy child and Judd would have had less patience that he.

Darby walked over to her and bent down. "Now what's this trickery you're pulling on us? Eh?"

"It's not…oh, please. I hurt." She rolled slightly from side to side, breathing oddly.

Judd had walked over as well. "Maybe we should untie her, at least for a bit. We can always tie her to the bed overnight. What do you think?"

Darby stood back up. It was only the second time that Judd had asked his opinion. The first time was when he had told Judd that the Cartwright infant may not be the best choice and he had suggested Adam Cartwright's wife. Judd had then asked him how he thought they could grab the woman. And now Judd was asking his opinion again. He rubbed his chin, contemplating the situation. "I think we should. If you want, I'll do it. Just hand me that knife." Judd handed the big knife he had used to open the can to Darby who used it to cut the ropes on her wrists. He was about to cut the rope on her ankles but she rolled over, groaning, and curled up and he saw the blood that had soaked through her skirt and into the mattress.

"Holy Mother, Darby said. "She's bleedin' like a stuck pig!"

"Damn it all!" Judd was furious—just like a woman to spoil everything for him.

"Maybe it's her time, you know, the bloody time that women have."

Judd shook his head. "No. There's too much blood and too much pain. This is something else." He looked at Darby who was obviously terrified at the sight of the woman, moaning and groaning in pain and rocking herself on the bloody mattress. Each moment that passed, more blood soaked the spot under her and it spread. "She might be dying and I'm not going to hang for it. Pack up our things. I'll go ready the horses. We need to leave—not just the Ponderosa but Nevada. Now hurry!"

Less than ten minutes later, Darby and Judd were gone and Sylvia lay alone on the cot in the line shack, crying out at the intense pains that ripped at her gut, certain that she was going to die alone in the small wooden structure with the smell of burned beans and over-boiled coffee in the air.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

"Well, they ain't here," Hoss said. Adam and he stood in the yard of the Morris place and looked around. The house had been empty. The door had swung open easily and the inside was filled with dust, mice who scuttled in the corners and the doorways were cloaked in cobwebs; it was obvious that no one had been inside or even outside for a long time past.

"Now…where could they be?" Adam was obviously upset but asked the question rhetorically. Hoss knew Adam was struggling with his emotions, trying to stay in control but his jaw kept working and his hands flexed in and out of fists.

"We gotta think," Hoss said. He took off his hat and wiped his brow with his kerchief. "Where else would they go? You think they're still on the Ponderosa?"

"Yes, I think they are. They couldn't spell worth a damn but that doesn't mean they're stupid—just uneducated." He paused and then his face changed. "Hide in plain sight."

"What?" Hoss was often confused by Adam's mental leaps.

"_The Purloined Letter. _It's a short story by Poe about a letter that's been stolen but has to be produced at a moment's notice so the thief left it in the open, hanging by a ribbon. The detectives searching for it looked where it might be hidden but never found it—it was hidden in plain sight. Now, if you had to hide a person far enough away that he wouldn't be found easily but yet close enough so that you could get to and from the Ponderosa quickly, where would it be? And it would have to be a place where no one would become suspicious if a fire was burning or men were about, that is if anyone from the Ponderosa even went out that far."

Hoss' brow furrowed while he thought for a few seconds. Then his face took on an enlightened expression. "A line shack."

"Yes, a line shack. But which one?" Adam looked around and up at the sky to judge exactly where they were. "Okay, if we're standing on the Ponderosa at the house and considering the direction the tracks went until we arrived at the grazing site…" He looked in the direction.

"The line shack bordering the Paiute lands, maybe," Hoss said.

"That's what I was thinking," Adam said as he mounted up. He kicked his horse into a gallop and Hoss quickly mounted and followed him.

_I hope older brother's right; we ain't got much time to find 'er afore they're on to us_. Hoss feared that the men who took Sylvia would see them coming since the line shack was basically on the edge of a vast spread of brush and boulders with few trees. If whoever it was saw them from afar, they might hurt Sylvia, even kill her and toss her body on the dirt before they took off. He and Adam would both stop for Sylvia and the men would get clean away. So Hoss made up his mind that no matter what, even if Sylvia would be lying naked and broken on the ground, he would keep after the men. And he would make them pay.

"Now you sleep, sweet one," Fiona whispered as she lay Ezra in his crib. She quietly pulled up the side and locked it in place. She watched him as he slept and tears fell from her eyes; she knew what she had to do. Fiona turned and went down the stairs to where Ben Cartwright sat smoking his pipe and staring into the fireplace.

"Mr. Cartwright," Fiona said quietly.

He looked over at her as if he was surprised to see anyone else in the house. "Oh, Fiona. Yes, what is it?"

Fiona couldn't stop the shivers that went through her; this was going to be difficult, the most difficult thing she has ever done in her 18 years on earth. "I know who has the Missus."

From a distance of about a mile, Hoss pointed out the smoke rising in the sky. "Those ain't no Paiute smoke signals neither," Hoss said.

Once they were within half a mile, the brothers pulled up their horses. "Hoss, go around and come in from behind. I'll come in from the side. The line shacks only have those two windows and if we can keep from being seen, we can surprise them." Hoss nodded and took off to make a circle around the line shack while Adam went further west in order to come in at an angle but he noticed as he rode closer, that there weren't any horses outside but he did see the tracks of two horses leading away from the shack and at great speed, as if the riders couldn't get away fast enough. He wanted to kick his horse to reach the shack faster, his heart thumping, but it was too much of a risk. Then he saw Hoss come to the back of the shack, look around and then ride round to the front. Hoss dismounted and Adam kicked his horse into a canter to cover the last few yards.

Even before his horse came to a complete stop, Adam dismounted and ran to the open front door. Hoss stood by the stacked bunks and looked to him, his brow drawn. "She's in a bad way, Adam."

Hoss stepped aside as Adam went to the bunk. Sylvia looked up at him, her face white with pain. He dropped to sit on the bed, having to hunch down, and reached out to caress her face. He murmured her name.

"It hurts so bad, Adam. Please…I'm going to die."

"Not if I have anything to say about it, you won't. It'll be all right. I promise you." Adam was shocked at the blood, at the copious amount spread under her, but he remained calm. "Hoss, pull the blankets off the top bunk and hold them." Hoss did as he was told and stripped the bunk and stood waiting. "Now listen to me, Sylvia." She gripped her abdomen again and cried out but Adam stroked her head. "I'm going to put you in Hoss' arms and we'll wrap you in the blanket and take you home. Do you understand?" She nodded but her eyes remained squeezed shut against the pain. "Can you put your arms around my neck, sweetheart?"

Sylvia reached up and tried to help Adam lift her from the cramped space but a new pain caused

her to grab herself again. "I'm sorry, Adam. Oh, God."

Adam pulled her to the edge of the mattress and then picked her up off the bunk. He then placed her in Hoss' arms.

"Why she don't weigh hardly nothin'," Hoss said as Adam pulled the blankets around her.

"Let me get on my horse and then hand her up to me. I'll take her back to the Ponderosa and you go get Doc Martin."

Hoss carried her out and when Adam was on his horse, He handed Sylvia up to him. She cried out again.

"It'll be all right," Adam said soothingly. "I'll have you home soon-soon and then you'll be fine." He turned to Hoss who was about to mount up. "I found the bastards' tracks; they can't even go to hell to escape me." He adjusted Sylvia in his arms again and then picking up the reins with one hand, kicked his horse into an easy canter and headed to the Ponderosa.

Hoss was worried and not just about his "little sis," but about Adam as well. "C'mon, Chubb. I know you're tired and hungry 'cause I am too but we got business to take care of first. Let's go, boy, and iffen you make good time, I promise you a treat of oats and a rubdown that'll make you feel better than any mare who ever lifted her tail in your face could." And Hoss kicked his horse into a canter and once they reached a familiar area where they knew every root and chuckhole, the horse broke into a gallop without Hoss' urging; the animal seemed to know that time was imperative.

While Ben Cartwright sat on the chair by the small table in the hallway, Adam paced outside the bedroom where Doctor Martin tended to Sylvia and Fiona was washing the blood from her. Joe was home and sitting downstairs. Hoss had met the posse and told them that they had found Sylvia in a line shack and that he was going for the doctor and since it would soon be dark, the posse was dispersed. As Hoss rode to town, he debated whether or not to turn around and to tell Roy about the tracks leading away from the shack—he had been in such a hurry, he had forgotten. He decided that getting to town was more important so he continued.

Dr. Martin had slung his bag over the saddle horn and ridden quickly to the Ponderosa; from Hoss' description, he had decided that Sylvia had suffered a miscarriage but he would have to examine her to be certain. Hoss had stayed behind and rested his horse while he had a quick beer after first loosening Chubb's cinch so the horse could drink long and deep from the trough outside the saloon. Then, after quickly downing the beer, Hoss adjusted the saddle and headed back to the Ponderosa, his thoughts dark.

The bedroom door opened and Paul Martin came out.

"Well?" Adam asked with annoyance. He wanted to be told Sylvia's condition.

Paul sighed. "Mrs. Cartwright has had a miscarriage. I'm sorry. It's an early miscarriage—she was a bit over two months from my calculations but she wasn't in a state to really answer any questions. She didn't know she had conceived. I've given her laudanum—give her a few grams tomorrow if she needs it but the pain should ease off and by the day after tomorrow she shouldn't need any more. The pains are contractions and…well, the womb is expelling the…the matter."

Adam caught the words that Paul used; he refrained from saying the "baby". "She'll be all right, then?"

"Yes, but I'll come by tomorrow and check on her."

"Thank you. Can I see her?"

"She's groggy and should sleep; she probably won't be making much sense. Let Fiona finish cleaning her—there was quite a bit of blood and she needed help changing into a gown as well. but when Fiona leaves, you can see her." Paul watched as Adam waited outside the bedroom, going back to his pacing. He turned back to Ben and the two friends walked down the hall and talked in hushed voices. "Such a shame, Ben, such a shame but Mrs. Cartwright's a healthy woman on the whole. There should be more children. Do you know who took her?"

"Yes," Ben said haltingly, "but I haven't sent word to Roy yet…or told Adam; things have happened so quickly. Now come have a cup of coffee and something to eat. Hop Sing's been cooking all day. It's how he deals with anxiety; he becomes upset and we become stuffed with food."

"I'd appreciate it," Paul said and headed down the stairs with Ben. He was hungry and just now felt it and the smells from the kitchen downstairs filled the house and drew him down and to the table like a siren's song.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Adam stepped into the hall and gently closed the bedroom door. Now that Sylvia was safely home, safe in their bed, he felt fatigue weigh him down like a lead cloak. The image came to him from his reading of _The Divine Comedy_. While still an impressionable boy, Adam remembered specifically and in great detail the punishments meted out in _The Inferno_. The hypocrites in Hell had to constantly walk under the weight of their lead cloaks and that weight made their spiritual progress impossible. In a manner, Adam felt like a hypocrite. After all, he had married Sylvia, taken vows with her but didn't value her as he should have and he was determined to make that change—and he would act his heart, not his mind. And as for Ezra, he adored the boy, was proud of him but always had doubts about his parentage and would entertain those doubts when he would lie sleeplessly in bed, his mind churning as he stared at the ceiling in the darkness. That would change—it had to or he felt he would go mad.

Adam knew he was overtired and that everything seemed out of proportion; he needed to eat and then he would sleep in the chair that he had pulled next to the bed. He would be close to Sylvia no matter what, even if he had to curl up on the rug like a dog. He turned and was startled to see Fiona waiting quietly in front of the nursery door.

"Fiona, you startled me." He smiled weakly.

"I'm sorry, sir. How is the Missus?"

"Asleep now. She'll be fine—thank you for helping clean her up while Dr. Martin checked her out. It helps to have another woman around at times like this." Adam walked closer to her. "I haven't seen Ezra since yesterday. Is he asleep?"

"Yes, sir."

Adam noticed that Fiona was uncomfortable; she even seemed a bit off-center. "I promise I won't wake him up." Adam stepped into the nursery. The fire was burning low and a lamp was on a short wick, casting shadows around them. Adam walked over to the crib and was amazed at how much Ezra seemed to grow in just one day. He smiled down at the child grasping his "lovey" to himself as he slept. Adam caressed the child's head, feeling the softness of his curls. Then Adam turned to leave and saw Fiona standing there again, her hands clasped in front of her. "Something wrong, Fiona?"

"Yes, sir. I…perhaps we should step out in the hall."

Adam and Fiona stepped out and Fiona closed the nursery door.

"It's not Ezra, is it? He's not ill or such?"

"No, sir." She paused and then as if unable to prevent herself, she spoke again. "Your father hasn't told you yet?"

"Told me what?"

Fiona looked down and then looked up again. She saw the heaviness in Adam's face, his eyes puffy. He had been through a terrible 24 hours and it had taken its toll on him. His shoulders sagged a bit and his face was darkened by his beard since he hadn't shaved in so long. The white dress shirt he had worn last night and was still wearing had smudges of dirt marring its purity and was heavily wrinkled. Blood from his wife was a dark stain on the thighs of his black striped trousers where she had sat as they rode. He looked like a man who had been to hell and had barely managed to claw his way back out into life.

"I…I told your father that I know who took your wife."

"What?" It seemed as though he had been struck and he had to clear his head. "Who? Who took her?" He grabbed Fiona by the shoulders as if he was going to shake it out of her should she decide to remain quiet.

"It was my brother, Darby, and another ranch hand—Judd. That's all I know of the other man, that he was called Judd. A large, evil-looking cur who worked at the Ponderosa."

"How do you know they were the ones? Be certain."

"Because….because they told me they were going to. The day before yesterday, they came and told me—they wanted the babe, Ezra, but I wouldn't let them—not the babe. I couldn't bear the thought. It had to be either him or the Missus they said or…things would be worse." She dropped her head. Fiona couldn't bear to see his eyes.

"You knew? You knew and said nothing?" He grasped her tighter and she winced.

Fiona tried to pull away from the vise-like grip he had on her. "I couldn't tell. They said they'd take the child, like I told you. I couldn't chance they'd hurt the wee one. I had to keep quiet. They threatened to snatch him away one day if I said anything." She began to cry and it quickly turned to sobbing. "And Darby, my brother, he's not a bad man, it's just that he's had to struggle for everything so that the thought of easy money—well, I suppose when Judd…"

Adam released her, pushed her away from him. He turned away and then swung around to face the sobbing girl. Fury rose inside him but he spoke in a calm, even voice albeit low and threatening. "If you were a man," he said, "I'd smash your face and then snap your neck. Be gone from this house in the morning and stay out of my sight until then."

Adam stalked past her, using all his will-power to control his anger. He wanted to rage at Fiona, to punch her with his fists and feel her face break under his knuckles but he wouldn't, couldn't. Adam knew that being as exhausted as he was, everything seemed worse; he needed to think, to remove himself from Fiona's presence. She was a mere slip of a girl and being so young, she couldn't be blamed for making poor decisions—he knew that. And yet he wanted to hurt her for what Sylvia had suffered. But perhaps, Adam considered, part or maybe even all of what had happened had been his fault and the words from the prayer of the Confiteor came to him, "through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault." Had he been a better husband, he wondered, had he been a better father, not been so concerned with matters of the Ponderosa, perhaps none of this would have happened. He would prove himself, redeem himself in Sylvia's eyes. Things would change. He walked slowly down the stairs and was a bit surprised to see that all looked normal while with him, nothing was normal.

"Pa." Adam stood in the great room and looked at his father sitting at the table with Paul Martin. Hop Sing was hovering about, happy to see someone eating the food he had been all day preparing.

Joe was eating as well and looked up at Adam. "I took care of your horse, Adam. He was almost…." Joe's voice dropped away as Adam was paying no attention to him.

Paul turned around, fork in midair, and Ben rose from his chair. "Yes, Adam." Ben had never feared any of his sons before but this time, as he rose to face Adam, he felt a small thrill of fear. Adam seemed different—almost a stranger.

"Why didn't you tell me? I've been home now for over two hours. I sat with Sylvia until Paul arrived. I sat with her and watched her writhe in agony, beg me to help her and you never told me you knew who was responsible, that Fiona had told you who did it?" He practically shook with fury, his voice like rough gravel.

"I thought that I should wait until we knew how Sylvia was. It made no sense to upset you twice-over…"

"Made no sense! I'll tell you what makes no sense!" Adam approached but Ben did his best to stay calm. "For Sylvia to be stolen away, to be treated the way she was and left to die in a line shack."

"Adam," Paul said, pushing his chair back, "I don't think Sylvia would have died; she would have stopped bleeding; there wasn't any internal damage."

"I don't give a goddamn," Adam said. "I could have found the men by now—and I will. I'll find them. I need something to eat, a little sleep and then I'm going after them." Adam roughly pulled out a chair at the table and sat down.

"Hop Sing make plate for Mistah Adam." Hop Sing rushed to the kitchen. He no longer desired to stay and watch the doctor enjoy his food. As Hop Sing piled the mashed potatoes, gravy, roast and biscuits on a large plate, Hop Sing shook his head. Adam had always been a puzzle to him, quiet with deep feelings. Hop Sing had seen men like Adam before—they were the most dangerous as they never gave any indication what was coming. In Chinatown, he had seen a man assassinated once, well, not seen the assassination as no one had noticed. The killer had drawn no attention to himself or to the act and the back room where the gambling was taking place was full of smoke and noise, men calling out encouragement to the dice or grumbling in disappointment at the throw. All anyone saw was the man who dropped after his intestines spilled out with a slippery sound that resembled that of the birth of a child. And then the man was dead, bubbly red foam on his lips. No one had seen or even noticed the assassin who had obviously brushed up against him and slid the knife up his gut. But had they looked closer or been paying more attention, they would have seen the victim's eyes widen and his mouth open soundlessly. Hop Sing always felt that Adam would be the type to kill a man that way—stealthily and with finality. Adam Cartwright was a dangerous man to cross.

"I should be going," Paul said, picking up his hat from the credenza by the front door.

Hop Sing, holding Adam's plate protested. "You not finish yet," Hop Sing said. "Have whole ham in oven still." Hop Sing placed the plate before Adam who picked up his fork and began to eat although he barely tasted the food. He just wanted to end the pangs in his stomach.

Paul smiled graciously. "It was delicious, Hop Sing, but I have a long way back and someone might be waiting in my office for my help. Thank you for a delicious meal."

"I'll walk you out, Paul." Ben said.

"Me too," Joe said. He didn't want to sit at the table with Adam anymore.

Once outside in the yard, Joe brought around Paul's horse and held the reins while Paul mounted. Ben handed up his medical bag and Paul hooked the handle on the saddle horn.

"Ben, it wouldn't be a bad idea to have Adam take some laudanum as well. He needs a good night's sleep and I doubt he'll get it."

"Good advice, Paul, but he won't take it—not willingly and I don't think I could slip him any. Besides, he'd rather suffer than take laudanum. He doesn't even like to drink too much; it makes him feel that he's not in control. But do me a favor; let Roy Coffee know who took Sylvia. There'll be no stopping Adam from going after them and he's not so much in the mind-set of an eye for an eye—more like both eyes, both hands and both feet for an eye."

"All right, Ben. I'll stop by the jail." He looked at Joe. "Take it easy, Joe. You may have to chase Adam over the whole Nevada territory to stop him from doing something he'll later regret."

Joe threw his hands up in surrender. "I'm never been able to stop Adam from doing anything but maybe Hoss and me both…"

Paul chuckled. "I'll be back tomorrow to see Mrs. Cartwright." He touched his hat brim and then rode away.

Ben put an arm around Joe's shoulders. "You brother scares me, Joe. I never know what he'll do."

"What about Fiona, Pa?"

"I guess I'll give her two weeks' pay and take her to town tomorrow. It's a shame you know but Adam will never forgive her for what she didn't do. She does love Ezra, though."

"I think she loves Adam too."

Ben gave Joe a wan smile. "That won't do her any good except cause her pain. Sometimes I think that a person loves Adam at their own risk. Let's go in and wait for Hoss." Ben and Joe walked together back to the house and Ben pulled Joe a bit closer.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

As soon as Hoss walked in and saw his father and Joe sitting quietly, he knew that things were worse than he had thought they would be once he arrived. On the ride home from town, Hoss had been mulling over what would probably happen next. He knew that as soon as Adam felt up to it, he would take off after the men. Hoss had been with his older brother many times before when Adam had reverted to force bordering on violence to "make things right again." They had argued many times over putting things right as Hoss often felt that enough had been done but Adam always wanted to go one step further. He had told Hoss once that although he couldn't make the whole world right, he would try his damndest to make his corner of the world right; "We should cultivate our own garden, make our part of the world a wonderful place to live and if it takes breaking someone's arm to get the truth out of him to find justice, well, so be it." So Hoss worried as he put his horse away for the night. He did sigh in relief when he saw that all the other horses were safe in their stalls; it meant that Adam hadn't yet taken off.

Both Ben and Joe turned to the door when Hoss walked in. He saw their concerned faces. "What's wrong? It ain't Sylvia is it? She's all right, ain't she?"

"Yes, she's fine. Better than she looked to be when Adam brought her in," Ben said rising from the chair.

Hoss hung up his hat and unbuckled his gun belt. "Adam okay?"

"Um…yes…more or less, he's okay. Hopefully, he's asleep. Come in the kitchen, son. Hop Sing made you a plate. I'll fill you in on everything."

"Smells good," Hoss said, sniffing the air. "Ham or roast beef?"

"Both," Ben said. "And mashed potatoes, roasted turnips, green beans, corn on the cob, sour dough bread, buttermilk biscuits, rhubarb pie, cream cake and who knows what else. Hop Sing cooked all day. You know how he is when he's upset. And he is upset."

"Well, you eat, Hoss," Joe said, slapping his brother on the back. "I'm going to bed. I'm riding out with Roy and the posse early tomorrow.'

Sitting in the kitchen and eating, Hoss listened while Ben informed him of Sylvia's condition, of Fiona's revelation and that she had told Ben when he checked on her and Ezra after Adam had gone upstairs for the night, that Adam had told her she was to be gone the next day; Adam was throwing her out. She said that she understood why and that she didn't blame him; she had been wrong, horribly wrong and knew she could never expect to find his forgiveness. Nevertheless, Fiona had asked that she not have to face the Mister in the morning, that she be taken to town after he had left for the day or was out of the house. She couldn't bear to see his abhorrence for her again.

"Bad all around ain't it, Pa?" Hoss was now working on a huge slab of rhubarb pie.

"Yes, and, Hoss, I've already talked to Joe about this but would you and Joe see that Adam joins the posse, that he doesn't take out on his own? Those men who took Sylvia, Fiona's brother Darby and Judd, they aren't wanted dead or alive, they're just wanted. I'm afraid that if Adam finds them, well, it wouldn't do for him to become a wanted man himself."

"Pa, it ain't a question of if we would 'try' to get him to join the posse, it's if we 'can'. You know that Adam does what Adam wants—to hell with anyone else. But I'll try, Pa. You know, I talked to that Judd just the other day and talked with Adam—Judd was slackin', takin' time for a smoke while the others worked. Adam said to fire 'im but, well, you know how I always get to give someone another chance…"

"And another chance, and another chance…"

"I know, Pa. But sometimes men do change iffen they know their job is on the line. And that Darby, he kinda hung around with Judd. Well, Adam was going to toss their asses off the Ponderosa." Hoss turned his father. "But I'll talk to Adam. After all, he shouldn't take this so personal."

"Sylvia miscarried."

"What?"

"Apparently, from what Paul Martin explained, she was thrown over a saddle and he thinks that may have brought it about."

"Damn. You just made my job 'bout a hundred times harder."

Ben stood and placed a heavy hand on Hoss' shoulder. "Thank you, son. Sometimes I think that Adam's closer to you than anyone else—that you understand him better than even I do."

"Pa, I don't think anyone can understand 'im. He don't think the same way as anyone else. He sure don't think the same way as me."

"I suppose not—but he does think-and that's a plus. Well, it's been a long day. I'm off to bed. Finish eating, son. Hop Sing is depending on you to make a dent in all this food." In his best Hop Sing imitation, Bed said, "When Mistah Hoss come home? No one eat food. Someone need eat all this food!" Ben smiled and Hoss grinned as he continued to eat. "You've got your job cut out for you, Hoss."

"Adam?" Sylvia felt groggy but she was certain that the person moving around the dimly-lit room was Adam. She sat up but her head spun so that she had to lie back down.. "Adam, what are you doing?"

Shhhh," Adam said, coming to the side of the bed. He had pulled on fresh trousers and held a shirt in his hand. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart. Here, let me make you comfortable." He placed his shirt on the bed and lifting her with one arm, he arranged her pillows and gently lay her back down. "I'm just getting dressed; I have some matters to tend to and the sooner I start, the better."

"But it's still dark." Sylvia was uneasy but not clear-headed enough to understand why. She grasped Adam's wrist. "Please, won't you stay home today? Not for me, but for yourself. You look so tired."

Adam chose to ignore her request and instead, poured some water in the glass by the bed and measured a few grams of laudanum. "Here, Sylvia, drink this." He proffered the glass.

"No." She lightly pushed away his hand. "I'm not in that much pain anymore. I don't want to keep sleeping. I don't like the way that stuff makes me feel—as if I'm moving underwater and my head spins."

Adam sat down on the edge of the bed and slipped an arm under her. "Doctor's orders. He said to give you the laudanum through today. He'll be back and you don't want me to tell him what a bad patient you are, do you?"

"Adam don't talk to me as if I'm a child. I told you I don't want any. Please take it away." She pushed against his hand.

He placed the glass on the bedside table and pulled Sylvia against him, stroking her dark hair. "Don't make me worry about you more than I already do. Please, Sylvia. Just take this one dose this morning. I don't want the pain to creep back. I don't ever want to see you suffer like that again."

Sylvia listened to his heartbeat—steady and strong. She remembered how awful she had felt, the searing pains that were like knives slicing her open and the two men although their faces were vague in her memory. And then Adam and Hoss showing up and the ride back to the Ponderosa although it wasn't as terrible as the ride out to wherever the men had taken her. She remembered how Adam had been, calm and soft-spoken and yet there was an edge to his voice that made her wary..

"All right, Adam. I'll take the dose." She sat up and Adam handed her the glass. She held it tightly in her hand and quickly swallowed the bitter mixture and handed the glass back to Adam. She watched him as he replaced the glass and stood up. It was his face that puzzled her—it was like a mask. "What are you going to do, Adam?"

"I told you—I just have to take care of some business." He tucked the coverlet up around her and then slipped on his shirt and buttoned it. "Now you go to sleep. Fiona is leaving today and Hop Sing and Pa will be taking care of Ezra until you're well. Go to sleep—you'll need all your strength just to keep up with him; seems all he does is run." Adam smiled but Sylvia noticed that it was only with his mouth; his eyes were determined.

"Adam." Sylvia felt a heaviness come over her limbs as the laudanum worked its magic. "You haven't said anything about…our loss. I was with child. I didn't know, it was so early. I'm sorry."

He looked down at her. She was pale and thin, her lips almost bloodless. Adam was afraid to speak, afraid his voice would betray his calm exterior. "It's not your fault—there's no reason to apologize for anything. I have to go." He kissed her cool forehead and left, closing the door behind him.

Sylvia pushed the covers off and stood on shaky legs. The wadding that was in place to soak up blood made it difficult for her to walk but she held onto the furniture until she reached the door and opened it. Then, she leaned against the wall while the world spun. _Hoss. I have to get to Hoss. I have to tell him_. She leaned against Hoss' door and banged weakly. She waited and things began to go dark behind her eyes. She raised her fist and banged again and then slid down against the door to the floor. She felt as if the world gave way and then she head Hoss' voice and felt herself being lifted and placed on the bed.

"Sylvia? What is it?"

Sylvia struggled to open her eyes. "Adam. He's going. Stop him."

Hoss patted her face lightly. "Sylvia, you need a doctor?"

"Took…laudanum." And Sylvia dropped off into a drug-induced sleep.

Hoss pulled the blankets up over her and then dressed. He paused at the door to his bed room trying to decide if he should wake up his father and brother but he decided against it. Adam wouldn't listen to anyone, not even him but there was a better chance that Adam could be kept under control by him alone than by all of them. Hoss headed down to the stairs and just as he opened the front door, he heard the sound of a horse leaving, heard a trot that then broke into a canter.

"Damn fool," Hoss muttered. Adam knew not to ride that fast in the dark. He hurried to the barn and quickly saddled up Chubb who behaved nervously. He kept tossing his head while Hoss struggled to get the bit in his mouth. "Dang you, Chubb. I know it's early and you're still tired from yesterday but we gotta go." Hoss remembered the jug of molasses that they kept in the barn to mix in the feed for a horse off its food and he retrieved it. "So you want to be bribed, huh? Okay then." Hoss poured some of the slow, thick liquid on the bit and then tried again and this time Chubb took it quickly and mouthed it to taste the molasses. "Dang horse. Guess you like a little sweetnin' in the mornin' too."

And soon Hoss was off in the direction that Adam had ridden, hoping that he could soon overtake him even though he was hesitant to ride as quickly until the sun came up. "Watch your step, Chubb. Watch your step."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

The noise in the hall had wakened Fiona. She quickly checked on Ezra but the child was still blissfully asleep. She pulled on her robe and stepped out into the hall. A lamp was kept on the narrow hall table all night and by its glow, she quietly walked and saw Hoss' bedroom door was wide-open. Fiona hesitated but peeked in and saw the Missus lying in Hoss Carwtright's huge bed; it almost swallowed her. Had Fiona not grown to know Mr. Hoss so well over the past few months, she might have been scandalized at finding his brother's wife asleep in his room, warmly tucked in but Fiona knew better. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. She walked further and to the open door of the Mister's bedroom and peeked in; it was empty and still dark, the hall light allowing her to see through the shadows that the bed was unmade, the covers tossed aside.

"They've gone after Darby," Fiona whispered to the emptiness of the room. If anything happened to her brother—well, Fiona couldn't bear the thought. Despite his flaws, he was her brother and had always seen to her well-being. And yet, he would have to answer for his crime—the laws of the country demanded that and up until now, Fiona had always felt self-righteous about it. There had always been a definite right or wrong in her mind but there had always been mitigating circumstances—at least that's what Darby had explained to her the first time they stole a shank of mutton from a butcher.

"Now you tell me, sister-child, you saw all the slabs of meat he has in the shop, didn't you, girl?" Fiona had nodded. "And you and me, little Ralph and Turley and Bridey, we're all hungry, right?" Fiona nodded again. "It's not right we should be starvin' while he sells his wares to the rich and has a heavy thumb at that! He's a thief—wanting more than what he should receive-but we're just tryin' to live; we're not thieves. And if it weren't for them cursed British lords and ladies what think they own even the ground on which we stand, we'd have gold coins in our pockets enough and buy all the mutton and pork and apples we could eat." Fiona wasn't quite sure about the logic of Darby's argument but as a six year old girl, she didn't argue. Instead, she did what Darby asked her to do next, to pocket as many apples as she could when he "accidentally" fell against the apple stand and knocked it over. So while the shopkeeper yelled at Darby and swung the business end of a broom at him, Fiona and all the other street children hustled and pocketed and grabbed as many apples as they could, one child even shoving one between his teeth and holding it like a roasted pig.

Fiona pondered what to do about her brother and the Cartwrights. Was she a man, she would ride out and warn her brother—he was her blood and she did love him. She knew that any of the Cartwrights would help each other out in any situation but she wasn't a Cartwright, just a girl who could barely stay on the back of one of those behemoths, so much as try to find her way about in the trees and stretches of pastureland. She knew she had to be gone that day; the Mister had made that all too clear. Mr. Ben Cartwright had already paid her—more pay than she deserved. She had demurred but he insisted she take it.

"But after what I've done, sir..." Fiona looked at the money in her hands. "It's not right I take it."

Ben had tipped up Fiona's chin. Tears glistened in her eyes. "It's difficult for me to see things how a girl your age would, Fiona, but I understand that you're young and when a person's young, well, it's difficult to make the right decision about many things. Actually, it's never easy, no matter how old we are, to know what the right thing to do is. You've taken care of Ezra well and I know you love him and he loves you. Were it up to me I might even allow you to stay on because children need those who love them around them—and there can never be too many. But Adam, well, that's another thing entirely. The way he feels about those he loves, Adam would never be able to see you and think of anything other than Sylvia and her condition when he found her and of the loss they both suffered." Ben sighed. He and Hop Sing would do their best to take care of Ezra until Sylvia was well and could do so. But could she do so? Ben hoped she could. But nothing altered the fact that he would be running after his grandson and helping bathe him and putting him down for his naps and feeding hm. "It takes a young person to raise a baby," Ben had told Hop Sing about Fiona's dismissal and how he would need Hop Sing's help.

Despite Ben's expectations, Hop Sing did not crow over Fiona's dismissal. They had actually come to an accord, especially when Hop Sing realized that he wasn't able to move as quickly anymore, not with the tenderness and swellings in his knees. His ginger teas and poultices were only a minimal help for the painful stiffness and once when he tried to chase after Ezra in the back yard to keep the boy away from the sty, his knees screamed every time he hit the ground in stride. But he had caught the child and tucked him under his arms to carry him back to safety. And Ezra had shouted his frustration at being snatched away just as he was about to explore another part of his empire.

Fiona went back to the nursery and pulled out her valise. She had more clothes now than when she had arrived so she pulled out a travel dress she hadn't yet worn it and as she looked at it, she remembered the day she bought it. The Mister had taken her to town and when she was through with her shopping, he had treated her at Mrs. McCrory's tea house, _The Cozy_. Fiona had giggled to watch the Mister holding the delicate bone china cup decorated with painted flowers and eating a tea sandwich in one bite. He was the only man in the room with its floral curtains and lacy table covers and he added a disturbing masculine element to the surroundings

Fiona lay the dress on the bed; it was pretty and the most expensive dress she had. Then she went to the dresser and picked up the business envelope lying on top. Mr. Ben was sending her to Sacramento with a letter of recommendation; his hope was that perhaps she could secure a job as ether a nanny or a companion to an elderly woman. Those positions were distinctly mentioned in the letter. Fiona put it flat in the bottom of the valise and began to take her clothes from drawers and the closet to pack and soon the sun was up and Ezra began to waken.

"Good mornin', you handsome boy." Fiona stood by the side of the crib and smiled at the child who rolled on his back and grinned up at her. Then he pulled himself up to a standing position and began to babble at her, rising on his toes. "So, you want out, do you? And I'm sure you need a change too." Fiona lifted him up and placed him on the bed, taking his lovey along. He tried to turn over so he could crawl down but Fiona, taking the lovey, made growling noises while she touched his nose with it. Ezra laughed and reached for the toy and Fiona gave it to him and then proceeded to change his diaper. When she finished, she picked him up and kissed his cheek.

"I don't know if your grampa is awake yet, so I'll feed you your breakfast." Her voice broke when it really hit her that this would be her last morning on the Ponderosa and she had no one to blame but herself. Fiona sat Ezra on her hip and carried him downstairs and into the kitchen.

Hop Sing was busying himself with breakfast. He glanced at the kitchen entrance when he heard a noise and when Ezra saw the cook, he crowed with delight.

"Good morning, little Cartwright," Hop Sing said. "I have hot cereal just for you." He put out his arms and Fiona handed Ezra to him. She watched while Hop Sing sat Ezra in his chair and then placed a bowl of farina cooked with milk in front of him. "Now, Hop Sing feed you and you eat all of it and grow as big as Uncle Hoss."

The bacon was popping in the fry pan and Fiona went to turn the thick slices. Hop Sing was in a quandary. Ben had told him that Fiona was leaving and that both he and Hop Sing would be tending to Ezra until Sylvia was better—and probably even then. It's wasn't that Ben thought that Sylvia was inept, he explained to Hop Sing, but she has never taken care of Ezra before by herself; she may need them. But he was the cook and needed to take care of the food as well.

"I cook breakfast," Hop Sing said standing, "you feed Ezra. Okay?"

"That would be fine," Fiona said and then sat down in Hop Sing's vacant chair and continued to feed Ezra who often tried to wrest the spoon away from her once his initial hunger was sated. And he also insisted on holding the cup of milk as he drank, voicing his displeasure when she tried to hold it instead. So when Ben Cartwright came down to breakfast, he saw a sight he never thought he would; Hop Sing and Fiona were chatting as if they had always been boon companions, the odors of brewed coffee, bacon and biscuits filled the air along with Ezra's chortles of happiness.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Ben was drinking his coffee and feeding Ezra bits of bacon when Joe came in.

"Pa," Joe said, "can I talk to you." He looked about at the expectant faces of Fiona and Hop Sing. "Alone." He motioned with his head and stepped out of the kitchen.

Ben followed him. "What is it?" It wasn't often that Joe looked as worried as he did now.

"I went to wake up Hoss and he was gone and so was Adam but that's not all-Sylvia is asleep in Hoss' bed."

"What?" Ben was confused.

"I guess Adam left to track down the men and Hoss went either after him or with him. Do you want me to find them or join the posse?"

"We'll both go join the posse. Hopefully, we'll find the men before Adam and Hoss. I wonder how much time they have on us."

"I don't know. I'll go saddle the horses."

"Thanks. Let me tell Hop Sing…and Fiona that we're going."

"Oh, and, Pa." Ben turned to Joe who was almost to the front door. "I'm hungry. Bring me a biscuit and bacon, would you?" Ben smiled and Joe left the house.

"Fiona," Ben said to her as she rose from her chair. By his face she knew that things were worse than she had supposed. Hop Sing stopped wiping up the floor where Ezra had spilt half the milk from his cup, and listened. He recognized the tenseness about Ben's mouth and the way he seemed to hold himself taller when there was bad news. It was almost as if he felt he could intimidate the bad Chinese gods who out of jealousy and the necessity to show their power brought evil to those who felt too secure in life; man must be kept humble.

"Yes, Mr. Cartwright," she said.

"I have to go into Virginia City. Joe and I are joining the posse to find your brother and Judd and bring them in. I won't be able to take you into town today so would you mind…helping Hop Sing with Ezra and helping Mrs. Cartwright. For some reason, she's asleep in Hoss' room. I'm assuming that she was too weak to…well, it doesn't matter, but if, when she wakes, you'll help her get back to her room and with whatever else she needs, it would be appreciated."

"Yes, sir. I'll help. And would you mind…I know I have no right to ask, but would you see that my brother is treated…not well as I know what he's done was bad but if you could keep him from doin' somethin' stupid and gettin' himself killed…for my mother's sake, it would be a kindness."

"I'll do my best, Fiona."

Adam had dismounted and was squatting down to check tracks. He had ridden to the line shack where they had found Sylvia and easily tracked the riders from that point; they obviously were in too much of a hurry to make an effort to cover their tracks. But now he had reached an area where he was finding it difficult to determine which way the two riders had gone. They were heading west earlier and Adam decided that if he lost their tracks completely, he would just stop in the next town and ask questions. He knew what the men looked like, Darby and Judd, and he had had problems with them. He kept thinking that he should have sacked them instead of giving them another chance and another chance but hands were hard to come by now that another mine had opened but they were poor hands and he had, a few days ago, threatened to let them go. Adam wondered if taking Sylvia was their way of extracting revenge on him. If so, then, he told himself, he was partially accountable for what happened.

He was about to mount up when his horse nickered and there was a response from a horse a short distance behind him. Adam's hand went to his gun and he slowly drew it while turning slightly. Adam waited, listening to determine if another horse or a creeping person was circling around. He saw a rider come into view from around some high scrub and he sighed, partly in relief and partly in annoyance.

"You gonna shoot me, older brother?"

"I should for sneaking up on me like that. Why are you here?" Adam slid his gun back into its holster.

"Lookin' for you. What kinda brother would I be iffen I let you track down them men alone. 'Sides, as bad as you are, you couldn't track a black cow in a light snow storm."

"I got this far, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but now you're stuck, ain't you?"

Adam threw up his hands. "Yeah, I am. I don't know where they hell they went except west and I'm not even sure about that. I thought that I'd stop in Cooperville and ask around. They would go there on their way. My guess is that they may be heading for the gold fields-they could get lost there. You know how close-mouthed and anti-social miners are—always afraid someone is going to jump their claim. Now, you gonna help me?"

"Maybe—it depends on a few things."

"Oh, I see. Pa sent you. I get your help but let me guess—I'm supposed to bring them in unharmed. Right? I'm surprised that Joe's not with you to help ride herd on me."

"Pa did ask me and Joe to go with you but I left this mornin' afore they were up—heard you leavin' just after I'd packed some ham and bread from last night. Joe and Pa are still home, well, they were when I left. They probably joined up with the posse by now." Hoss still sat on his horse. "Sylvia asked me to follow you, to keep you from doin' something' you'd regret."

"Sylvia? I dosed her with laudanum to keep her in bed."

"Well, she managed—barely managed-but she did, to get down the hall to me. I left her tucked in my bed, warm and comfortable."

Adam stood silently. "Your bed? Don't make a habit of it." He grinned and Hoss chuckled. "Now haul your ass down here and help me decide which direction they went and give me one of those biscuits."

Sylvia had woken wondering where she was. The room was unfamiliar and her head was fuzzy from the laudanum. Then she remembered that she had asked Hoss to find Adam. She realized she must have quickly succumbed to the opiate. Sylvia sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed which was so high that she couldn't put her feet flat on the floor. She slid further and her knees buckled under her and she hit the floor. She lay on the rag-rug beside the bed, waiting for her head to clear and heard footsteps approaching.

"Mrs. Cartwright." Sylvia felt hands on her arms, shaking her slightly. "Are you all right?"

Sylvia opened her eyes and saw Fiona kneeling beside her. Hop Sing stood behind her in the doorway.

"I want to go back to my room," she said but her voice was a mere whisper. "Help me, would you? Please."

Fiona and Hop Sing helped her up and together, they took her back to her room and Fiona helped tuck her in.

"Adam. Is he here?"

"No, ma'am. The Mister is still gone along with Mr. Hoss. Mr. Cartwright and Joe went to join the posse."

"Ezra."

"He's down for a nap; it's past 2:00 in the afternoon."

Hop Sing felt helpless as he watched. "I bring tea and toast. You eat something. You feel better then." He turned and left.

"I suppose I'll leave now too," Fiona said. "Is there anything you want before I do?"

"No, no, nothing. Thank you for helping me." Sylvia sighed and closed her eyes. "You can open the drapes though. If it stays dark, I'll sleep all day." She heard the drapes being drawn and saw the light of day behind her eyelids. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Anything else I can do for you before I have to leave?"

"No, thank you." Sylvia noticed that all was still; Fiona hadn't left. Sylvia opened her eyes. "Is something wrong, Fiona? Something I should know?"

"No, ma'am. It's just that… did the Mister tell you that I've been dismissed and why?"

"No. No, he didn't." Sylvia heard the blood pound in her ears; she knew there was some terrible secret, something going on that she didn't know.

Fiona took a deep breath. "It's because of the men who took you-one of them was my brother, Darby Flanagan. He and another man, a ranch hand on the Ponderosa, they wanted to take Ezra and hold him for a price. They told me when they saw me outside on Ezra's birthday. I traded you for Ezra in a manner. I should have told, let your family know that they were going to take you but I didn't. I suppose that I really wanted you gone in some foolish hope that I could take your place, that I could be mother to Ezra and…wife to the Mister. The idea is foolish—more than foolish. It's sinful and cruel—I see that now—I guess I always saw it, always knew it but it's too late. I'm sorry about…well, your losin' the baby. If I could take back what I've done, I would. But I can't. I'll stay out of your way but if you need my help, I'll humbly give it and be glad to." Fiona stood for a minute, her heart thumping. She knew that were she in the bed recovering from such a loss, she would be tempted to curse the person who had caused her such misery to eternal damnation, to wander through the world without recourse or succor.

Sylvia pulled herself to a sitting position. If she was going to be Mrs. Cartwright, the lady of the house, no matter how intimidating it was, she had best act the part. "When Ezra wakes from his nap, bring him to me. I want to see him. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Fiona said quietly. "I'll bring him."

Hop Sing came to the door carrying a tray with a small teapot, a cream pitcher, a cup and saucer and a plate with buttered toast, along with a brass bell. He grinned as he carried it to her and placed it across her lap. "Already put sugar in tea. Missy eat. Get strength back."

Sylvia picked up the folded napkin and placed it on the bosom of her nightgown. "Thank you, Hop Sing. I'll eat it all, I promise." She noticed the bell. "What's this?" She held it up and it clanked heavily.

"You call Hop Sing with bell. You ring and I come."

Sylvia smiled and thanked him. Hop Sing left and only Fiona remained behind. Sylvia poured tea into her cup. "You may go, Fiona. I won't be needing you." And that was the worst thing she could have said to the girl standing across from her.

Tears stung Fiona's eyes and she turned and left. Sylvia let out a shuddery breath. She knew that she should forgive Fiona; that was what was always preached. _Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Judge not lest ye be judged. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone._ But Sylvia couldn't. She tried to put herself in Fiona's place and consider how she would feel if Fiona was Adam's wife, if Fiona was the one Adam kissed and the one he took to his bed. If Fiona was spoiled and petted by Adam, coddled and protected from hard work and troubles. Sylvia would hate her even more than she did at this moment but she couldn't forgive Fiona. She couldn't. _Take heed to yourselves: If thy brother trespass against thee, rebuke him; and if he repent, forgive him_. "God forgive me," Sylvia whispered, "but I can't forgive her—I just can't."


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

The posse, under Roy Coffee's directions, spread out to cover a half-mile corridor until they arrived at the California border as that was where Roy's jurisdiction ended. Then they were to meet in Carson City. Roy had already sent wires to the closest sheriffs and marshals in Nevada and California informing them of Darby Flanagan and Judd's crime—whatever the specifications about the crime were since there was nothing on the books about it. And even if it did, Roy had earlier told Ben, "They just have to plead out, probably do a few months in jail. Now you and I know that those two aren't going to go to trial—they're not fools. The only thing that they could probably be prosecuted for is extortion and that's it. That Sylvia miscarried, well, that wasn't their intent—to do harm. We're not tracking murderers."

Roy had sat straight on his horse while the men including Joe and Ben Cartwright, waited for instructions. "Now if you spot something like remnants from a camp or such, fire twice. If any of you hear the shots, head that way and assist. If you find them and can take both or even one of them safely, do it but don't go being a hero as put yourself in danger. And bring them back."

"What if we see anything that leads us to believe that they went over into California? Are we to just turn our backs on it? Ignore it?" Joe asked. He felt his usual annoyance at having to obey the letter of the law.

"I have no authority in California.," Roy explained again with impatience. "I already explained that. If you see anything, tracks or such that make you suspect they went that way, tell me and I'll wire the closest sheriff and have him look out for the two especially."

"Why can't we find them and drag their asses back across the border? Who would know? They'd be back in Nevada and we could prosecute them." A few men mumbled in agreement.

Roy sighed. ""Cause you can't do that. The law there has to take custody." Roy leaned forward in his saddle. "Now if you want to haul them into the next town in California and have the sheriff hold them until I can get custody of them, that's fine. Matter of fact, I wish you would. You'd save me a world of trouble. I hope to sleep in my own bed tonight."

"Well, they broke the law. I don't understand why we have to toe the line when…"

"Joseph," Ben said, "Roy already explained it. We don't want some lawyer to get them off on a technicality. Now let's do what we're supposed to do." Joe glowered but said nothing else.

"All right, you have your instructions, Now remember, this is a legally-sworn posse so no shooting unless there's no other way."

The men nodded before they separated and rode out. They had each been given a description of Darby and Judd but some of the men had seen them in the saloons before; some men hoped they'd find the two fugitives and some hoped they'd find no one and nothing—this was just their civic duty and they resented putting their lives in any danger for anyone, especially a Cartwright who could well afford to hire Pinkertons to track down the two former ranch hands.

Roy and Ben rode together though. They enjoyed each other's company and as the two oldest men in the posse, they felt they could well do what they liked and ride as a pair. But Joe was relieved that his father wasn't heading out alone. Joe had waited until he saw the two men ride off together and then wheeled on his horse and took off to the west.

"I wonder if we're going to find anything," Roy said. "You know, when you think about how vast this land is, how many gullies and hills and places for a man to hide, I'm always surprised when anyone is caught by a posse."

"I know—I wish we would find them first because that would mean that Adam won't. I worry about it."

"Now, Ben, of all your sons, Adam is the least likely to act like a goddamn fool. I've seen Joe lose his temper many a time, rant and stomp around and slam things—a bit like you in a fury…" Roy grinned as Ben reacted.

"Now wait a minute, Roy…"

Roy put up his hand. "I've seen Hoss too when he gets that look like he could snap a man's backbone in half—and probably would-but I haven't ever seen Adam lose control of himself no matter what."

"I know," Ben said, "but this time it's different." His brow furrowed in concern.

The two friends rode along in silence, each lost in his own thoughts as they scanned the countryside for and sign of the fugitives.

Adam and Hoss had arrived at Cooperville a few hours before dusk and asked questions even while they quickly ate. No one they spoke to in the small town remembered anyone fitting Darby and Judd's descriptions, not the bartender in the only saloon, the waitresses in the small restaurant or the mercantile until they went to the livery stable to feed and rest their horses before they headed out again.

The owner of the livery, a heavy-set man who probably couldn't see his own feet due to his belly, talked slowly as if every word took a great deal of energy. He remembered Judd and Darby.

"The blond one…yeah…he had an Irish accent. The other one…he was kinda surly—got upset when I told him the price of oats."

Adam waited impatiently while the man sighed, rubbed his ample chins and considered his next words. Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out two half dollars. He flipped one to the man who caught it quickly enough. "Think real hard," Adam said. "There's another half-dollar waiting if your memory serves."

The man raised a finger as if he just remembered something. "The surly one called Judd…he got shed of that Irishman—took off on his own. They had an argument…."

"Did he happen to say where he was going? The one called Judd?"

"Now let me think…"

Adam tossed the other coin and the man's hand shot out and caught it mid-air.

"They both seemed…in a hurry…scared…said somethin' about a dead woman. I know when to mind my own business…to pretend I didn't hear something…and that was one of them times."

Adam considered all the livery owner had said—practically nothing except that Darby and Judd had gone their separate ways. All he knew was that they had passed through Cooperville the previous evening and left. Adam put his hands on his hips and evenly said, "Did they say where they were going?"

There was something in Adam's tone that made the man cautious. He looked at the big man in the tall hat who waited as well and started to move toward him. The livery owner knew that no more money was forthcoming but he might be jerked up by his shirt front and shaken until the words spilled out and his eyes rolled around in his head. "Now...wait a minute," the man said. "The mean one, he did say somethin' 'bout Oregon. Yeah, he said to the other guy, the Irishman, that he thought he'd go to Oregon—not many people there, he said. He could get lost there."

"Thanks," Adam said curtly. "Appreciate it." Adam took the reins of his horse and walked out, Hoss following and leading his.

"What we gonna do?" Hoss asked.

Adam turned. "You head out after Darby and I'll go to Oregon. He'd take the usual trail because it's faster—I'm sure of it—especially this time of year with all the rains up that way."

"Oh, no, brother," Hoss said. "I ain't lettin' you face Judd alone. Or let me put it the right way—I ain't lettin' Judd face you alone."

Adam grinned. "Well, thought I'd try." They mounted up and headed in the direction of Oregon.

Sylvia rolled on her side; it was after midnight and she was still awake. She was tempted to take a dose of laudanum. Doctor Martin had told her that she could if she needed it for pain but this wouldn't be for pain—this would be to blot out her anxiety about Adam being out hunting down the two men who had abducted her; he hadn't told her that was his plan when he had left that morning but she knew it was. She kept reminding herself that Hoss was probably with him by now and that the two of them were together although she knew that didn't ensure anything. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see Adam's face and then her mind would create a scenario where he lay dying. She would have to sit up and ease her breathing, ease the panic that rose in her breast.

She was exhausted. Her eyes burned and her head throbbed. Fiona had brought Ezra to her after he had wakened from his nap just as she had asked. Initially, he was content to play on the bed while she sat up and talked to him but when he tried to crawl on her and she felt his hand on her abdomen as he tried to stand up, she had to put him off. Ezra had soon grown impatient with the limitations of playing on the bed although Sylvia played childish games with him, pointing to her nose and ears and asking him their names, singing any songs she could remember that were a bit silly or childish, playing a clapping game that she had played as a child. But Ezra soon wanted down so she helped him off the bed. She sat in a chair while he walked about the room, trying to open drawers and to find some way to entertain himself. He loudly complained when they proved too difficult for him to slide open and he walked to the closed door and tiptoed to attempt to reach the handle.

Sylvia had walked over and taking Ezra's hand, she pulled him away and opened the door, calling out to Fiona. Ezra wanted to go out to the hall and Sylvia picked him up, carried him out and was suddenly overcome with weakness and vertigo. She quickly placed Ezra down and sat heavily as he looked at her in expectation and then started to toddle away toward the stairs. Sylvia crawled on her hands and knees, her head spinning. She wished she had taken the large brass bell with her but she knew she couldn't crawl back to get it and leave Ezra alone with the stairs.

"Ezra, Ezra….come here, sweetie. Come here…" Sylvia slapped her palm on the floor, hoping to divert his attention from the staircase. "Fiona!" she called out again. "Hop Sing! Please! Anyone!" Sylvia started to cry out of frustration while Ezra looked puzzled. "Fiona!" she called out again. Then Ezra went to her and put his arms about Sylvia's neck. She held him against her, upset at her physical limits. Ezra gave Sylvia a kiss or what passed as a kiss. Ezra didn't know how to actually kiss yet—he leaned in and placed his open mouth against her cheek. It was wet and sloppy and Sylvia laughed with relief. "You little angel—you darling love," she said as she hugged him closer and kissed him until he complained.

Fiona came rushing up the stairs. "Missus, I was just coming in from outside hangin' laundry and I heard you call when I walked in. What's wrong?"

"Ezra wants to play and I'm afraid I'm not as strong as I thought I was. Would you mind taking him outside for a bit?"

"No, Ma'am, not at all. Do you need help gettin' back to bed?" Fiona picked up Ezra. The Missus was pale and obviously weak.

"No, no." She closed her eyes and leaned back against the solidity of the wall. "Where's Hop Sing?"

"Pickin' beans. Do you want I should get him?"

"No, no. I would like some tea though when he's finished. Will you tell him?"

"Yes, ma'am. Are you sure you don't need me?"

Sylvia forced a smile and tried to look cheery. "I'll be fine. Take Ezra out now." Sylvia watched while Fiona took Ezra down the stairs and she finally heard the front door close. She maneuvered to her hands and knees and pulled herself with the doorframe. Then her spirits fell; a red smear of blood was on the wooden planks. The doctor had told her to rest, to stay quiet but she hadn't and this was the result. Now she would have to change her wadding and her gown and wash the spot on the floor or have it as an embarrassing sign of her womanhood and the miscarriage and have someone else wipe it up. But first, Sylvia decided, she had to lie down. Her legs didn't seem to respond so she dropped again to the ground and crawled back to the bed but instead of climbing up as she felt too sick, she lay on the rug hoping to recover before Hop Sing came in with the tea.

The rest of the afternoon served to show Sylvia how very incapable she was of taking care of Ezra until she was stronger and that knowledge weighed heavily on her. And what if she had another child, she considered. How would she manage with two small children? So she lay awake in bed, the room dark, the house still, and her worries of her inadequacies and fear for Adam and Hoss swirled around her like a black smoke and she felt almost as if she was choking.

"Come home, Adam, come home. I just want you home." Sylvia turned on the bed again and settled in. She sighed with longing to have Adam's arms around her, to hear his deep voice like warm honey. That was what she wanted, to have Adam there to take care of everything but she knew that he couldn't always, that she was now a grown woman and had to learn to handle things on her own. But, oh, she didn't want to.

It was almost midnight when all the men of the posse came together again, Joe being the last one to ride in. Their weary postures showed that they wanted nothing more than to be home and safe in their beds.

"Well, the fugitives are now under the jurisdiction of California as far as we can determine since none of you saw anything," Roy said. "Ben and me questioned just about everyone in Carson City already so we may as well head home since we don't have any leads. I'll wire the sheriffs again." Roy turned his horse and the others followed his lead. It would be quicker getting home than it had taken for them to get to Carson City.

Joe held back his horse and when his father looked about to see where he was, Joe motioned with his head. Ben dropped back so that father and son rode side by side.

"Anybody heard any news about Adam or Hoss since most of you had time to talk before I arrived?" Joe asked quietly.

"No. Nothing. I'm hoping they're home, that they've given up."

"Adam give up? You know better than that."

"He belongs at home with his family. Sylvia needs him and he just takes off. And then there's Ezra. Doesn't he think about what they'll do—what we'll do if something happens to him?"

They rode for a bit in silence. "What's the real problem, Pa? Sylvia's not alone-you asked Fiona to stay a bit longer and Hop Sing is there. We'll be home in a few hours."

"I just worry about Adam, that he's not looking past his need for revenge, to strike at those who hurt Sylvia and by that, him. What will he do if there's blood on his hands? What will happen if he commits murder? I wonder if he's even thought about the consequences."

"He'd say it was self-defense," Joe said but he knew that Adam wouldn't lie about it, that Adam would more than likely turn himself in if he committed cold-blooded murder. "All right, so he wouldn't lie but at least he'd have a sense of satisfaction, the knowledge that he'd done something. I can understand it, I know how Adam feels. I've wanted revenge like that too."

"Yes, I know," Ben said looking straight ahead. "That's what worries me. I know the feeling too."


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

Adam pulled up his horse. "Look, Hoss. Even I can see those are fresh horse tracks."

Hoss leaned down from his horse to see the pile of leaves and other debris that had decayed to such a point that they formed a muck. "Yeah, that's not quite dried up enough. That rain they had yesterday was a boon. Makes it easier to track 'im, that is if it is him."

"It's him. I can feel it. How far ahead would you put him?"

"Maybe six, seven hours. He's not movin' very fast. Might even stop for the night up at Eagle Hollow. If I was goin' to bed down and feel safe, that's where I'd do it."

Adam agreed and kicked his horse to move faster. Judd was traveling along the path Adam thought the man would—too narrow for wagons but a trail long ago blazed by Indians and Army scouts. It wouldn't be long now until he met up with Judd and he felt excitement rise, the same excitement he felt when hunting destructive bear, thieving coyotes or cunning wolves. He like the feeling of being of turning the predator into the prey and hunting them to the ground. His heart thumped with expectation. He would avenge Sylvia and himself and even Hoss wouldn't be able to stop him.

They rode for a few more hours until Hoss stopped.

"What?" Adam asked, pulling up his horse and turning in his saddle.

"I'm 'bout near starved to death. Let's eat and rest the horses. We been pushin' them hard."

"I have a feeling we're close to him." Adam looked ahead. "He's probably stopped for lunch and rest and if we keep going, we'll catch up to him."

"Dang, Adam, don't you care 'bout nothin' but gettin' Judd?"

"At the moment, no." Adam sat still and his horse, threw its head, not with impatience but rebellion; it wanted to stop. "All right. We'll stop and eat—but not for long."

Hoss grinned and was about to dismount but stopped.

"What?" Adam said. "What's the problem?"

"Just wanna make sure you get down too—that you won't take off without me. I don't know that Chubb here could catch up with Sport—not with them long legs on him and Chubb as worn-out as he is."

"And having to carry you," Adam added. "I just happen to like long legs on my horses and my women," Adam said dismounting. He tried to keep things light so that perhaps wouldn't guess his intent. He dropped his horse's reins and loosened the cinch and Sport blew out his stomach and then began to pull up the fresh grass; the rain had been good to this area.

"Hoss climbed down from Chubb's back and loosened the saddle's cinch as well. "Long legs on a woman, short legs, I don't care—they all come together at the same place. Kinda like a wishbone ain't they? I know that many a desire of mine done been granted there."

Adam laughed and pulled the bread, jerky and cheese he had bought in Cooperville from his sadllebag. He sat on a fallen log and Hoss pulled off his canteen. He then pulled out the bag of gum drops he had bought at the mercantilist's in the town. He crouched and took the jerky and bread Adam offered.

"Don't know how you can eat that cheese. Got kinda a bitter taste to me."

"Ah," Adam said as he bit off a piece of one of the thin wedges, "it's like solid milk."

"Solid sour milk."

"You like curds, don't you?"

"Yeah, but not by themselves. I like 'em rolled in that breading and fried in a Dutch oven of melted lard like they make in that restaurant in Carson City. I could eat those like candy."

"This," Adam said, holding out the cheese wedge, "is delicious melted on just about anything you can think of eating. When I was back east at school, there was this one place that served cheese melted over wide hot egg noodles—it was one thing I could afford-plenty and cheap and delicious."

Hoss curled his lip at the idea. "Just cause cheese is melted, it don't get me to eat it."

Adam chuckled but the whole time his mind was churning. He wondered how Sylvia was and Ezra, especially now that Fiona was gone. His anger toward Fiona had subsided somewhat but due to what had happened to Sylvia, he still felt the embers of rage. The child that neither he nor Sylvia knew she carried was an abstract to Adam—he hadn't been able to build up any hopes or dreams yet for the unborn child so he knew he didn't feel the loss as deeply as Sylvia must; he hadn't been carrying it and suffered such with the physical as well as emotional pains of losing it. But he would avenge Sylvia-he would make Judd and Darby pay for every tear she had shed.

Adam finished eating and rolled the paper back around the bread and the pieces of cheese. He closed up the sack that held the jerky. "Let's get going."

Hoss rose and groaned. "My back needs a longer rest. I swear I'm gonna get me a long hot bath and maybe visit Chinatown for one of them massages. You know, the ones that Hop Sing's always takin' about—those baths and such." He popped another gum drop into his mouth and held out the bag to Adam who declined. But before Hoss put the bag back in his saddle bag, he held out two of them to Chubb who readily took them.

"I swear…you and that horse. A match made in heaven. Now loosen your belt after all that candy and tighten your horse's and let's go. We've got to close the gap."

Sylvia sat up in bed, pillows propped behind her, reading a novel that Adam had ordered from England, _A Tale of Two Cities_, but she couldn't keep her mind on the troubles of the protagonists; her own kept pushing themselves to the forefront of her mind. She began to envy Dr. Manette of the novel and his shoe-making as a way to distract himself from his thoughts; she hadn't yet found a way—not with needlework, not spending time with Ezra—nothing worked as her mind just went around and around and over the same ground like a mill wheel. Sylvia closed the book and then slid back down in bed, letting the downy pillows comfort her. She even wished that she and Fiona were friends as they could gossip and talk and that would distract her. Instead she was alone with her thoughts and they tormented her.

That morning, Ben had brought Ezra in to see her. He said that he and Joe had arrived home early in the morning and that the two fugitives hadn't been found.

"What about Adam and Hoss? Did you find them?"

"No," Ben said as he held Ezra's hands as the child attempted to walk on the soft mattress. "Don't worry about them, Sylvia. They'll be fine, I'm sure."

"But you said that the posse returned because of the conflict between jurisdictions. If Adam's gone into another territory, if he's…"

"Sylvia," Ben said, smiling. "Don't worry—please. Now I have some business to discuss with you and I hate to burden you with anything but you know how Adam dismissed Fiona?"

"Yes."

"Well, I couldn't take her into town because I joined the posse. I can take her today but Hop Sing told me how she helped out yesterday. She's ready to go—assumed she's going today but….do you want me to take her or wait until you're stronger? Hop Sing and I can probably manage but, well, there's a lot to do on the property—the mine, the mill, the logging and then the cattle. Joe's her all alone unless I go to help him until Adam and Hoss return…" Ben smiled in the hopes that Sylvia wouldn't detect his fear that something awful would prevent their return. "Right now it's just the two of us—Joe and me managing it all. I don't know that Hop Sing can handle Ezra by himself. He took care of Hoss by himself when Hoss was a baby and such but that was almost 30 years ago; he's a bit older now." Ben smiled again. "Yet, if Fiona's still here when Adam returns, he won't be happy."

Sylvia put her arms out for Ezra and Ben handed him over but even though she tried to hold him in her arms, he squirmed to be free. "I'll deal with Adam—explain things. I would appreciate it if Fiona could stay until I'm stronger. Yesterday was a bad day—I lost ground and I feel wrung out today. He'll understand." She kissed Ezra's plumps cheek and then let him go and Ben stood and swung his grandson into his arms.

"All right," Ben said as he stood the boy on the floor. Ezra immediately took off for the open door. "Whoa there, pardner," Ben said swooping down and swinging Ezra up over his head. Ezra chortled with delight and then Ben held Ezra in his arms horizontally and he laughed with delight. "Let me take Ezra to Fiona and I'll go out and take charge of the tree-cutting. You rest easy and get better."

The house was quiet now but through the open window, she could hear Ezra laughing and Fiona talking to him. From what was said, Sylvia decided that they were playing ball, one of Ezra's favorite games. She sighed heavily again and curled up to try to catch up on her lost sleep. And as she drifted off, the voices from outside, the songs of the birds and the normal sounds of the countryside became a dull background noise as she drifted off into what was a surprisingly pleasant sleep.

It was Hoss who first smelled the frying bacon "and beans. Beans with molasses," he confirmed as he sniffed the air. Then Adam smelled the campfire, the burning wood.

"It's him—Judd." Adam dismounted. "I can smell his stench over everything else. Hoss, tie the horses off back there. I don't want them to give us away."

"Glad you included me in that." Hoss rode up and took Adam's horse's reins and backtracked about fifty feet and then tied both horses to a tree limb to keep them from following him like a loyal hound. He pulled his rifle from its scabbard and then joined Adam.

"You go around to the side but don't do anything until I approach him," Adam said. "Just wait and hold your rifle on him."

Hoss watched Adam's jaw work. "You ain't gonna just shoot him dead on sight, are you?"

Adam snorted. "Now what kind of satisfaction would I get from that?"

"This ain't 'bout satisfaction or vengeance—it's about justice. You gotta keep that in mind."

Adam smiled sardonically. "Oh, that's foremost in my mind—justice. Now go and come up on him from the side. If things go as I plan, well, you might enjoy some bacon and molasses beans for dinner."

"They do smell good." Hoss grinned at Adam." Maybe I'll shoot him myself just for that good dinner."

Adam chuckled and Hoss moved away to approach the camp which he guessed was about 75 yards away. He moved through the brush trying to keep from making noise. For a big man, Hoss Cartwright was light on his feet and had an eye for small details. The closer he came to the camp, the stronger the savory-sweet smell of the food became and he felt himself salivate. Finally, he saw the light from the fire as it was now dusk and the glow from the flames was obvious from a short distance. He placed himself behind some shrub and waited, his rifle aimed at the man who poured himself a cup of coffee. When Hoss saw the man turn back to the fire, he recognized Judd—he had the man in his sights.

Waiting was the worst part. He watched Judd spoon the beans onto a tin plate and then pick up a slice of thick bacon and take a bite. Hoss could taste the salty flavor of the pork strip and imagine how the layers of marbled fat melted in the mouth when crisp. Then Judd's horse that was tied off nickered. Judd froze and put down his plate. _More food for me._ Hoss readied himself.

Judd looked around; evening had fallen quickly and it was almost dark. Adam's voice came through in the failing light. "Drop the gun, Judd—take it out gently. Any fast moves and I'll have to shoot you." Adam stepped into the circle of light. "Do as I said. Drop the gun."

Hoss stepped out then and Judd turned to face him. "Takes two of you, huh? But why're you after me? Just 'cause I walked off the job? I didn't take anything. A man has a right to quit a job should he want." Judd was wary, nervous. "What do you two want from me?"

"I said, drop your gun and that's the last time I'll say it." Adam held his gun steadily on Judd and Hoss jacked his rifle; the sound rang out. Judd decided to comply and slowly took his gun from his holster and held it loosely. "Toss it to the side," Adam said, motioning with his head in the direction he wanted the gun tossed. Judd did as instructed.

"Now," Adam said unbuckling his gun belt, "I'm going to tell you why I want you and what you did, you son-of-a-bitch."


	33. Chapter 33

**I try to write everyday so that I can post another chapter the next but I won't have much time to write today so in case anyone who's reading checks in, there won't be a chapter New Years' day. Have a wonderful 2015 and hope to see you back as I really am close to the end of this story-promise. Thanks to all of you who read and express your opinions-good or bad. ;-) At least I know someone's out there.**

**Chapter 33**

Hoss watched nervously. He didn't like the idea of Adam fighting Judd when they had the drop on him and could easily take custody but Hoss decided it was better than having Adam just shoot down the man like he would a rabid dog.

"Hoss there isn't going to interfere, is he?" Judd asked. "He's not going to hold me while you beat me, is he?"

"No," Adam said, tossing his hat aside. "Even if I lose, he's not going to do a thing except turn you in to the law all peaceable-like."

"How about this?" Judd asked, smiling. "If I win, I go free." Judd circled Adam and Adam followed, turning to keep Judd in front of him.

"No—no," Adam said grinning. "You're going in for what you did. I'm going to see to it."

"If you're able to open your eyes after I'm through with you. But why? I didn't do anything. The whole idea—everything—takin' your wife, askin' for money—all that was that that Irish bastard's idea, that Darby. I just went along; seemed an easier way to make money that punchin' cattle. It was him who killed your wife—not me. He left her there to bleed to death."

"No, no—you're a liar. I know what happened and I'm going to make you pay for what you did." Adam's voice was calm, deep and controlled—he spoke almost in a sing-song. No anger showed, no fury, none of the hate he felt inside escaped. "You were as much to blame as Darby, if not more so. My wife didn't die. If she had, I'd hang you right here from that tree—not by your neck—that's too quick, but by your feet. And then, while you begged and cried for mercy, I'd gather all the dry wood I could find, pile it up below you and set it on fire. I'd enjoy that, watching you plead with me until you screamed when the fire reached your hands and caught your sleeve, the flames climbing up your body and your hair would flame up like a match-head—oh, how you'd scream before you died. But you're lucky. My wife is recovering but our child, it died; she miscarried it and then you left her to die alone in that God-forsaken cabin. For that, I'm going to beat the all-fired shit out of you. For that, I'm going to make you want to beg for mercy but there won't be any. For that, I'm going to break you—destroy you."

The whole time Adam had talked, Judd's mind ran in circles; he was truly afraid of Adam Cartwright and had always hated him because Adam rode around the Ponderosa on his tall stallion giving orders that Judd had to obey. But now he had the chance to get back at the man, to break those white teeth and crack his skull open—if he could. Judd felt that he should make the first move—attack first, surprise Adam-so he moved in slowly and then quickly swung out with a fist. It landed on Adam's left jaw and he fell backward but was soon on his feet again. Adam's jaw began to swell immediately.

Adam reminded himself to stay calm but his blood was singing with the need for revenge. He stepped in and defending himself with one hand, punched Judd with the other. Judd backed up, shaking his head as he recovered from the blow. Judd moved in again, ready to punch Adam but Adam, moving from foot to foot, caught him first and even Hoss could hear the crack as Adam's fist landed hard on Judd's mouth. Judd backed up, spitting blood and pieces of his front teeth.

Adam opened his hand and shook it loosely; Judd's front teeth had caught his knuckles and torn them and the pain was keen. Adam closed his hand again into a fist and now circled Judd who kept turning to keep his eye on Adam. "C'mon," Adam taunted in his musical voice, "hit me. Hit me again before I do you. C'mon."

Judd flew at Adam and that was what Adam hoped for, His fist slammed again into Judd's face and Hoss saw a stream of blood fly from Judd's nose and hit Adam's shirt-front. Then Judd fell backwards, making a gurgling sound. Adam reached down and jerked Judd up by his shirtfront. He drew back his fist and Judd made an animalistic sound of fear but Adam slammed his fist into the man's face again and while he still had him upright, Adam punched him upward in the solar plexus. He could hear the sudden expulsion of air from Judd's lungs and the man gasp silently _like a fish dying on dry land_ as he tried to suck in air.

Adam pulled Judd closer. Judd's eyes were wide with terror. "That was for my wife and her suffering. That is for the pain you caused her. But for you, it's not over." Adam dropped the man to the ground and Judd landed with a thud, pulling his legs up as he finally was able to catch a breath. Adam stared down at him and then stepped over his writhing body and walked away sucking on his bruised and bleeding knuckles.

"Damn, Adam," Hoss said as he walked closer to Judd. "I thought I was gonna have to shoot you to get you to stop. You don't think he's gonna die before we get him back to Virginia City, do you?"

"There was a doctor at Cooperville. We can take him there and once he's patched up, turn him over to the sheriff. But he's going the whole way to Cooperville tied over the saddle of his horse like a sack of shit." Adam looked at his split knuckles, flexing them. "I could use a doc myself." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a bandana. He wrapped it around his knuckles. "Tie this, would you?" he said to Hoss and he did, bringing up one tip from the first wrap and tying it to the last tip on the outside.

"I don't think he's any too hungry, Hoss," Adam said, motioning to Judd. "Want to split those beans and bacon?"

"I am hungry, Adam—no denying that. Let's eat. Shame to let them molasses beans go to waste."

After Adam and Hoss ate, they spread out their bedrolls to sleep for a few hours. Now that Judd was theirs and his hands tied together with his own neckerchief and sitting against a tree, Adam felt the heaviness of fatigue weigh on him.

"I'll fix up his bedroll," Hoss said, beginning to spread out the blankets he had found in the camp.

"Tie his ankles—like he did to Sylvia. He'll still be able to move, slither like the snake he is, but he won't get far if he decides to escape me." So Hoss retrieved the rope from his saddle and hog-tied the man and then lifted him and placed him on his blanket, throwing the other one over him.

Judd mumbled as best he could, that he had to void.

"Adam, he's gotta take a leak?"

"Well, unless you want to lift him up and hold it for him, let him wet himself. I don't really care."

Hoss sighed and shrugged down at Judd. "You heard older brother." Judd moaned and Hoss went to his place by the fire and bedded down for the night.

It was early morning, the sun just kissing the sky when Adam bolted awake. He quickly looked to Judd and saw the man was still there. He reached out and pushed Hoss' arm. "Wake up, Hoss. We've got to be going. Check and see if he's dead yet and if he's not, give him some water and then throw 'im over his saddle."

"Adam, ain't that goin' a little far? He ain't in such good shape."

"No, it's not going far enough." Adam said as he stood up and began to roll his blankets. "Too far would be if I cut off his privates, fry 'em in the left-over bacon grease, and made him eat them for breakfast."

Hoss just shook his head and Judd looked up at him with fear. Judd's nose was broken and his breathing was harsh. His front teeth were shattered and his gums had bled; the dried brown blood was mixed with his three-day's stubble on his swollen jaw. "Boy, you're one ugly mess. You never should've messed with a Cartwright, 'specially Adam." And Hoss went to saddle the horses.

Sylvia was sitting on the porch reading when Roy Coffee rode up. It was the third day after Adam and Hoss had left and no matter what she did, worry ate at the back of her mind. She smiled as Roy, smiling in return, dismounted.

"Glad to see you're up and about, Mrs. Cartwright," Roy said as he approached the house.

"Well, I am up but not about. Dr. Martin said I could sit outside and get some fresh air but that I still had to keep from exerting myself. Staying in that room was giving me cabin fever." She smiled but she found herself ready to cry with Roy giving her a sympathetic ear.

"Well, you're looking lovely—as lovely as this morning is. Is Ben to home?"

"Yes. He's getting ready to go out to the mill—something about fulfilling a contract—but have you heard from Adam or Hoss?"

"Not from them but…" The front door opened and Ben walked out.

"Roy! Good to see you. I thought I heard someone talking out here."

Sylvia could tell from Ben's forced smile that he was expecting bad news as the reason for Roy's visit.

"Mornin'. I was just telling Mrs. Cartwright here that I got a wire from the sheriff of Cooperville. He has Judd in his jail and asked me to come fetch him—with a wagon. Said that Judd wasn't in any shape to ride."

"Not in shape to ride? What…"

"He didn't elaborate. But he did say that he was brought in by two men who told him that Judd was a wanted man in Virginia City but I had already sent a wire the other day so the sheriff knew. But I need a deputy to go with me to bring back Judd—and a wagon. I have to leave Clem here to run the store but with Judd in the bed of a wagon and my back to him, I'll need a deputy. I was thinkin' of Joe. Is he here?"

"No, he's out on the property but I can go with you. Be glad to."

Roy shook his head. "No offense, Ben, but I'd rather have Joe. I think I need a young man."

Ben raised himself up to his tallest. "I can do a better job that any man half my age. And you're even older than I am."

Roy stroked his chin, looked to Sylvia and winked. "Okay, Ben—I'll take you and your rifle along. Now if you'll hitch up a buckboard and meet me at my office, we can head out. And maybe you can talk Hop Sing into packing us some food?"

"I'll be there in less than two hours—with food. We have some left-over fried chicken since Hoss wasn't home."

"I'll be waiting." Ben tipped his hat to Sylvia. "Ma'am." He then untied his horse, mounted and before he rode away, grinned at Ben. "See you in two hours." He rode away and Ben stood with his hands in his pockets. He turned to his daughter-in-law.

"Why do I have a feeling that that old fox manipulated me into going along with him?"

Sylvia laughed—the first time she had laughed in days and it raised part of the shadow over her. "Because you have been! You're like Adam—actually all men. I'll tell you a secret, Mr. Cartwright, one that all women know and that Roy obviously does as well: appeal to a man's vanity and he'll do whatever is asked of him—and more."

Ben laughed. "I suppose you're right." Ben turned to go into the house but Sylvia stopped him.

"They were Adam and Hoss, weren't they? I mean the men who took Judd to the sheriff. They were Adam and Hoss, don't you think?"

Ben looked at Sylvia's face, so careworn for one so young and yet so full of hope. "Yes, I'm sure the two men are Adam and Hoss. I would imagine they're on their way home as we speak." Ben started to leave but then paused. "I'll send a wire when we make Cooperville. Adam and Hoss should be home by then. If they're not, wire me back—I'll wait a few hours whether Roy likes it or not. If they're not home, let me know and we'll look for them." He put out his hand and patted Sylvia's shoulder. "Don't worry so much. They'll be fine. As many times as I've paced the floor, sat up and prayed, as many times as I've suffered the torments that plague all parents, God has always sent my children home. They'll be here." He smiled again and went into the house to prepare for the trip to Cooperville.


	34. Chapter 34

**Thanks to all who have followed this to the end-and yes, it's finally ending!**

**Chapter 34**

Fiona was in the side yard hanging Ezra's clothes out when she saw movement to her left. She gasped as a man appeared. Then she sighed in relief. "Darby! I thought you were gone away from here—far. You're a hunted man, you know, but I am glad to see you." She went to her brother and he hugged her and she kissed his cheek, rough with stubble.

"Am I wanted for murder? The woman, did she die?"

"No—lucky for you. I told them, Darby. I told them that it was you and that man Judd what took Mrs. Cartwright. You need to turn yourself in. Judd's been caught and from what I heard, he's in a bad way. I don't know if he's been shot or what it is but the sheriff is bringin' 'im in. The Mister must have hurt him in some way when he caught up with 'im."

"Good thing we separated them. Is he to be hanged?"

"No—I think not-the Missus didn't so it's not murder die but Judd'll probably be spendin' some time in jail—extortion is what they called it. And then—I think it was assault they added to the charges."

"Assault? Just because we spanked her?"

"You did what?"

"The woman, she kicked me and Judd already had her over the saddle so he walloped her on the arse. That's all. We never touched her again although there was talk about us usin' her if no one paid the price but we never did. As for me, it was talk to make 'er frighted—I don't know about Judd. We were just goin' to keep 'er until the Cartwrights paid but when she started bleedin', that's when we got scared and ran. But we never hit her. That is what the word 'assaulted' means, isn't it—to hit someone?"

"I don't know how the law sees—defines it-but all I know is that's part of the charges." Fiona looked around. "You've got to go into Virginia City and turn yourself in to the constable. Please, Darby. It'll go easier on you if you turn yourself in. And in a jail cell, the Mister can't get at you. He's a dangerous man when riled."

"What about you, Fiona? They know you knew what was to happen since you told. What about you?"

"I'm dismissed. I'm just stayin' on until the Missus is well—stronger. The Mister won't be happy I'm still here and I can't say I'm not afeared a bit to face him but…well, she asked me to stay on. But when I go, I'll stay in town and help you—I promise. Please, Darby, turn yourself in or the Mister will hunt you down and eventually he'll find you and you'll come to a bad end."

"Well, Mother always said I would." He chuckled at his sister.

"Darby…"

"Oh, now smile, girl. Your darlin' brother's alive and well. Don't you worry about me, dear sister. You've taken a burden from my mind with the news that the woman is alive." He kissed her on the cheek.

"Please, Darby. Please." Fiona clung to his jacket sleeve.

"I have to go." He stated to leave but turned back. "I do love you, child, and wish I could stay and take care of you but I can't. This is a big country—a new one and there're many places for a man to find work and be lost among the others. I hear there are many Irish in the south of this fine country—and honest ways for a man to make a livin'. I may even join the army." He then turned back and kissed his sister again. "Take care, girl."

Fiona watched her brother leave and knew she would never see him again. "God be wi' ye, Darby Flanagan," she whispered. She sighed and went back to her chore but couldn't help but weep.

"It's Adam!" Sylvia knew when she heard horses in the yard that Adam was home. She put aside her cross stich and stood. Her knees were weak and she almost had to sit down again.

Fiona, who had been reading _Robinson Crusoe_ even though she knew she would probably never have time to finish it, looked at Sylvia. The fire was burning to stave off the evening's chill and cast a golden light on Sylvia's face. _She looks like an angel_, Fiona thought, _in her white robe and laces_. And to Fiona, it seemed that Sylvia had matured years in just a few days. After all that had happened to her, she wasn't mired in self-pity or if she was, she didn't moan and complain to others. She had allowed Fiona to stay on a few more days and although the two women were not friendly, they were cordial. Sylvia had made it clear that it was for Ezra's sake alone and his need for care that she could stay. And, Sylvia had added, "Ezra loves you and has grown to be a generous, caring child; to me that bespeaks an innate goodness in you since you have mainly raised him up to now. As for your…'affection' for my husband that you spoke of, at first I was upset but I can well understand his draw. For that alone, I have to insist that you no longer remain in our employ permanently. I will explain to my husband why you're still here."

When Fiona had earlier that day told Sylvia that Darby had just come by and left, Sylvia's face froze. "I tried to convince him to turn himself in but I doubt he will. He said he's goin' to lose himself among others somewhere, perhaps in the south or join the army. He may reconsider surrenderin' to the law but I don't think he will. He was relieved to find that you…hadn't perished. If you like, I'll go to town and inform the constable."

Sylvia didn't say anything for a few moments. "No. Don't."

Fiona wasn't sure that she understood. "It could be Hop Sing who rides into Virginia City and lets the law know."

"No, Fiona. And don't tell Adam—or anyone else."

Fiona felt intense relief. "Thank you for that," Fiona said. "My brother is not a bad man—he's just, well, growin' up with nothin', I suppose that when he was given the chance he…I'll make no more excuses for him, but I do appreciate your kindness."

Sylvia gathered herself. "Let me disabuse of that. It's not out of kindness; it's for myself and Ezra. If Adam knows that Darby was here, he'll take off after him and I won't be able to bear it—to have him gone and to worry about what he'll do if he finds your brother. That's the worst—the worry. That's why I don't want you to tell him—or anyone else. Swear to it. I'll tell him myself—one day when his anger has abated. And by then you'll be gone so there'll be no more rage directed at you."

Fiona readily agreed. She found it strange that the Missus didn't want revenge, didn't want to see both of the men who had abducted her, who had caused her the loss of a future child punished. But she could also understand her reasoning. So it came as no surprise to Fiona that when Sylvia heard the sound of hooves in the yard, she quickly stood and once she had steadied herself, rushed to the door, threw it open and stood in the doorway in her robe.

With the light behind her, it was difficult for Adam to see Sylvia's face. He dropped his horse's reins and strode to the door where he faced Sylvia. Without a word, she threw her arms up and about his neck. He held her and lifted her slightly off the ground.

"You're home, you're home," she murmured.

"You knew I would be—I wouldn't leave you and Ezra. Now kiss me." And she eagerly complied. Adam lifted her up and carried her into the house; the room was empty and Adam sat her on the settee while he kneeled in front of her.

"What happened to your face?" she asked, reaching out to touch his purpled jaw.

"Oh, I ran into a fist." He chuckled slightly. "It's nothing."

"And your hand?" Sylvia touched the white bandage wrapped about his hand.

"Oh, that…just split a few knuckles but they're bandaged and soon they'll be good as new; just can bend them. Don't worry, I'll still be able to use my best hand on you." He grinned as she blushed; the color came back into her cheeks.

"Adam, don't talk like that."

He laughed and then reached up and pushed the hair from her brow. "How can you become more beautiful in just three days?"

"Oh, don't be silly. I know how tired and pale I look—and thin. I think I've even lost my…bosom."

"Let me check," he said, feigning opening her robe.

"Oh, Adam, stop." He laughed and smiled at her. "Is Hoss all right? Was he hurt?"

"No, he's fine." Adam stood up. "I need to help Hoss with the horses and then bathe and a shave and after, I'll check in on Ezra and then join you upstairs. You go rest now." He looked around. "Where's Pa and Joe?"

"Your father went with the sheriff to fetch Judd from Cooperville. Judd was hurt—too hurt to sit a horse."

"Hurt? Hmm. Wonder how that happened? And Joe?"

"He's in town waiting for a wire from your father. As soon as it arrives, he's to bring it back—if you're home, well, we don't have to respond but I want to. Joe said that he'd stay in town until it arrives."

Adam leaned down, resting a hand on the settee arm. "Go to bed, Mrs. Cartwright."

"All right but, Adam, don't check in on Ezra tonight."

"Why not? He's fine, isn't he?"

She smiled. "Yes, he's fine. As much of a terror as always and twice as rambunctious."

"What is then? I won't wake him."

Sylvia paused. "It's that Fiona is still here. It wouldn't do to walk in one her at night." Since Fiona had left, Sylvia assumed that the girl had headed upstairs just to avoid facing Adam and his wrath.

"I dismissed her. She should be gone. Why is she still here?"

"I asked her to stay until I'm able to do more. I'm forbidden by the doctor to even pick Ezra up. How would I be able to care for him by myself?"

"There's my father and Hop Sing…"

"Adam, they're old men, not up to watching a baby and they also have other responsibilities. Fiona knows she's to go soon. Just…please…be amicable until she goes."

"Sylvia, you had no authority to ask her to stay on. I hired her and…"

"Adam, you left me here alone and so I made…"

"You weren't alone. I would've never gone if you had been here alone but you weren't."

"I felt alone—all alone. You're my husband, the father of the child I lost….we lost…and you left to get revenge and I had no idea if you would ever return alive or not. Do you know how horrible it was for me? Did you care? You should have left it to the law to handle but you had to avenge your honor, the dignity of Adam Cartwright.."

"Had I left it to the law, Judd would be hidden in the Oregon mountains having never paid for what he did to you. I had to make him pay—to have him experience some of the fear and terror that you did. He needed to be taught and I needed to avenge you, not myself."

"Adam don't raise your voice to me." Sylvia was a bit cowed by Adam but still maintained a strong front.

"I'll raise my voice, I'll raise hell, I'll raise corn if I like! I had to go after Judd before he escaped me. I had to make him pay. I had to see him punished by my own hand."

"And you only hurt yourself, didn't you?" Sylvia waited.

"Oh, no—I assure you, he's hurt far more. You just don't understand, Sylvia, and you never will." He stood and looked away. He had done what he did just fpr his wife, just for her so that she would know that at least one of the men who had taken her was adequately punished. But if he stayed, he would say things he would later regret. "I'm going to help Hoss with the horses." Adam stalked out of the house.

Sylvia sat for a few more minutes and then slowly crossed the room and walked up the stairs. She felt weary. Adam was home and she was relieved and then she had made him angry and now they were at odds. _I should have stayed quiet—not challenged him. He was home…home…safe. I had to speak my mind and rouse his anger_. Sylvia entered the bedroom and was surprised that it all looked the same since her world had now shifted. The lamp was burning on the nightstand and she lowered the wick, removed her robe tossing it on her vanity stool, and crawled under the sheets. Soon she was asleep, almost as if she had been drugged. She hadn't remembered falling asleep but she knew she was wakened in the darkness by two strong arms pulling her into his embrace and hearing Adam's voice whispering next to her ear.

"I'm sorry, Sylvia. Please. Can you forgive me for being such an ass?"

His skin was cool and his hair was still damp but his mouth on her neck was hot. He smelled of the air and the grass and of the solid pines of the Ponderosa.

"You're forgiven even before you've erred," she whispered, "because I love you." And she smiled to the darkness around her as she felt herself back in the shelter of her husband's arms.

"That's what I'm depending on—that you love me. I only hope that I'll forever deserve it." Adam settled into the soft bed with his world in his arms. He had found redemption for all his sins—present and future through the elemental emotion of love.

~Finis~


End file.
